Against Time
by Azalea419
Summary: Ryzea Washlington was a normal TimeKeeper. Until Raymond Leon stepped into her life. Now together, they must complete an impossibly dangerous mission that threatens Life. And Time. Can they overcome their differences to save their crumbling world?
1. The Beginning of the End

**Hi, everyone. Thanks for taking the time to read my story. This is just an idea I've had bouncing around in my head for a long while, and I just gave in and decided to write this.**

**Summary: **Ryzea Washlington was a normal TimeKeeper. Until Raymond Leon stepped into her life. Now together, they must complete an impossibly dangerous mission that threatens Life. And Time. Can they overcome their differences to save their crumbling world?

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything :)**

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

Ryzea Washlington crouched low near the battered fence, threading her hands over one of the metal links that cut through her skin. Her breath came in low, short gasps and the fire in her tendons screamed under her weight. She'd been running for a while now and ditched the kitty heels a while back in some backwater alleyway. Zea yanked down the leather guard around her arm, glancing at the neon green numbers that ticked away on her skin.

0000:00:0:00:08:15

8 minutes and 15 seconds. Damn, she wasn't going to make it. Zea sucked in a sharp breath, droplets of blood squeezing out from the knife wound on her side. It wasn't everyday she got hurt this bad, but this was the Ghetto after all. The streetlamps flickered in time to her rapid heartbeat, confusing her thoughts. She knew the Ghetto like the back of her hand; she had come from here after all. And now she was back as a rookie TimeKeeper. She imagined what her colleagues would say if they saw her now, bleeding on the sidewalk with only a few minutes left to her life. She gritted her teeth and raced down the concrete alley, her bare soles slapping against the hard ground. Her brown hair had come undone from the elegant ponytail and whipped her cheekbones as she ran. Like many other TimeKeepers, she'd gotten into the habit of going out into the field with scarcely any time at all, saving the backup Time for when she really needed it. Like now.

Her car! Where was her car, dammit?

Zea stumbled to a stop in the empty lot, staring in shock at the place where her police cruiser had been parked. She'd left it right here, just an hour ago when she'd started her undercover assignment. The little black dress suffocated her chest as she stood there, at a loss for what to do. She peeked at her arm.

0000:00:0:00:07:03

She would die here. She knew it. Nobody else knew of her assignment and she'd been ambushed outside the club by those idiotic minutemen. She'd left her gun with those men when Fortis had drained twenty minutes off her clock. Getting away hadn't been easy, especially since she'd earned a knife in the side after punching the man who'd twisted her arm behind her back painfully. Her cruiser was gone and it was somewhere near midnight; and in the Ghetto, being out late at night was a very, very, very bad thing.

She sat down on the curb, her heart pounding loudly in her ears, preparing for the end. She took off the leather wrist guards that covered her arm from palm to elbow, throwing them carelessly to the ground. What a horrible way to die, out here where nobody would ever know. Her colleagues would laugh. She imagined what Raymond Leon would say if he knew how reckless she'd been. Although she would never admit it, she admired the detached way he handled things and the effectiveness he brought into every case. It was no wonder he was head of their department. Zea dared another look at her clock.

0000:00:0:00:03:23

Three minutes to her life. What could she do but wait in the silence of the night for death to come? She desperately wished for a miracle. Anything, anybody, to prevent the end. She couldn't just die out here! Although few people knew, Zea had never told anybody how old she really was. Her 29th birthday had come and gone without notice just a few months before, but she didn't feel any older. She'd lied about her age to join the TimeKeepers, letting them all think she was 36. Nobody thought to check and nobody knew she'd come from the Ghetto. Her parents had died when she was young and she'd learned to live day to day by the age of 15. She'd ever only had one friend and he was gone now, his time run out. Zea swallowed against the bitter sadness that threatened to burn her heart every time she thought of her childhood friend. Keirnan.

0000:00:0:00:00:51

Zea stared into the darkness, her eyes glued to the green numbers on her arm. They taunted her, ticking down as slow as possible, prolonging the stop to her life. Blood pooled next to her thigh and she felt herself getting dizzy from bloodloss. She ignored the pain, blinking back the angry tears that threatened to spill over her cheeks.

Suddenly, the sound of screeching tires ripped through her silent vigil. Lights flooded the empty lot and Zea could barely make out the outline of a police cruiser as she blinked away the black spots in her vision. Maybe the Minutemen had come to finish her off.

"Wash!"

Zea blinked, half standing as hope filled her chest. She thought she recognized his voice. She lifted her arm.

0000:00:0:00:00:04

Shit.

"Wash! What the hell are you doing out here?"

A car door slammed. Zea stumbled toward the man that strode towards her. She stretched out her arm in desperation.

"Raymond!" She choked on his name, letting the tears blur her vision, "My time!"

He was close and she couldn't move as the pain clawed into her side.

0000:00:0:00:00:03

He was right in front of her now, his face a mask of cold concern. His usually ice blue eyes glittered darkly in the night and she thought if she died now, that would be the last thing she would see. She didn't really mind.

0000:00:0:00:00:02

"Damn." Raymond muttered, catching her fingers in his own a moment later.

0000:00:0:00:00:03

0000:00:0:00:00:04

0000:00:0:00:00:10

0000:00:0:00:04:25

The numbers moved too fast for her to comprehend. An immense relief flooded her heart and she fell to her knees, still clutching his arm.

"You got careless." Raymond's voice wasn't as indifferent as before, "Is that blood?"

"I got knifed." Zea gasped, trying to grasp the fact that she was still alive, "The Minutemen ambushed me and my car's gone."

She'd missed death by a second.

Raymond helped her up, the numbers on her arm still skyrocketed upwards as he gave her minutes of his time. The clock on his own muscular arm was dwindling fast. She yanked her arm away.

"That's enough." Zea though she sounded a little breathless, "How-how did you find me?"

Raymond pursed his lips as his eyes flickered toward her wound with disdain, "Carter briefed me when your car went off the grid."

Zea nodded, suddenly grateful that the idiots who had stolen her car were stupid enough to drive it across section borders. Nobody could leave the Ghetto unnoticed.

"You alright?" Raymond picked up her leather wrist guards, "I'll take you back, come on."

She took them silently, sliding them over her arms. One last glance at the skin that held her fate.

0000:00:2:04:30:00

He'd given more than two days' time, something she knew was a big risk for him. The stupid fool; he'd have to go through tomorrow's case with only 4 hours to spare.

"How much time did you give me?" Zea slid into the passenger seat of his cruiser.

"Enough." Raymond looked straight ahead as he handed her a black shirt, "I don't need you bleeding all over my car."

Zea swallowed her pride and took the shirt, "...Thanks."

It was the first time she'd said that word in over six years.

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><p><strong>So, what did you think?<strong>

**Please R&R! :)**


	2. Another Day

**Hey guys, so I'm reuploading the next three chapters because I noticed that I accidently switched from using "Ryzea" to "Azalea". So, so sorry! I think I also fixed some spelling mistakes. Please review!**

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

Zea lived in an apartment directly across from headquarters. This gave her immediate access to the network and a cruiser for her own purposes. The apartment was small, white, and tidy. She never had enough time to redecorate it to her tastes. A coffee table sat in front of the white couch, all squished into one corner opposite the white tiled island. One long white counter covered the entire left wall, with a few cupboards, a sink, and a rickety fridge. One door behind the couch led to the bathroom. Because there was no bedroom, she usually just slept on the couch, like today.

She sat up slowly, wincing in pain at the bandaged wound at her side. She'd fallen asleep in her ruined black dress. She fervently hoped she hadn't stained the couch. Bloodstains were a pain in the ass to wash. She stood to peel away the sleek fabric of the dress. What a waste of 30 minutes. After a quick shower and bandaging her wound, she threw on a plain black shirt and loose jeans that chafed against her wound. She glanced at the poor, battered clock that hung above her fridge. Five o'clock in the morning; damn, her shift started at 5:15 am and she still had to go to debriefing. Stuffing her feet into her uniform combat boots, she slammed the door and locked it on her way out, almost tripping down the stairs in her hurry. Most of her neighbors were TimeKeepers too, but none of them woke up this early. The new years' rookies always got the early shifts.

She'd been a TimeKeeper for nearly five years, her first year nerve-wracking as she struggled to hide her immobile clock. Being 24 in a building full of hardcore 50 year veteran TimeKeepers didn't help. The only person who knew her secret was Raymond Leon and she'd stopped wondering why he hadn't fired her on the spot. Maybe it was because she was such a _good_ TimeKeeper. Carter, her dispatcher, always teased her about being 41, the age she was supposed to be this year.

"Wash!" her neighbor, TimeKeeper Dent waved as she skipped the last few steps, rushing towards the revolving doors, "Early shift?"

She gave him a quick smile before barreling through the apartment building's glass revolving doors, running across the street without looking both ways. Thankfully, there were no cars this early in the morning and most people liked to stay clear of TimeKeeper Headquarters. She ran across the parking lot as she wrapped her uniform trench coat around her shoulders, wriggling her wrists comfortably against the leather guards. She didn't like people staring at her clock so she kept it hidden under black leather guards. She entered the formidable iron doors of the massive white building, sliding her wrist guard down to expose her clock to the sensors. It beeped and she practically jumped over the metal access bar.

She zipped past the lobby, throwing a knowing smile towards the Leila, the head secretary who manned the front desk every morning shift. Zea burst through the glass doors into the control room, stopping to catch her breath with her hands on her knees. She knew she was late. Damn Time.

Only a few people sat in front of the many computers in the control room and the morning light filtered in through the skylights on the high ceiling. The heels of her boots clicked against the tiled floor as she ignored the giant compound screen that covered an entire wall of the room-more like an auditorium than a room. A small auditorium without a stage; just a gigantic screen that was the chief instrument in all their operations.

Liam Carter winked at her as she passed by, a phone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear. Zea rolled her eyes, swiping her badge off her desk as she hurried toward the briefing room. One glance at the big screen told her the price of life was now 38%. She winced, wondering how many people would die today.

"Zea!" a high female voice jolted her from her thoughts, "You're late!"

Her rookie partner, TimeKeeper Amanda Kettleburn waved a newly manicured hand in her direction. Amanda was the type of person you would never expect to see in TimeKeeper Headquarters. She had a petite frame softened by perfect curves and a babydoll face framed by blonde pixie-cut hair and wide blue eyes that gave her an overall fragile look. Amanda was 34 and one of the best female TimeKeepers in the department. She'd joined the force two years before Zea, but she was still considered a rookie. Amanda was also a social rebel, breaking dress code daily with her booty shorts and tight tops that exposed her midriff. Amanda loved to gossip and spent most of her time pining after the men in the TimeKeeper occupation -or more like luring susceptible men to her apartment for a one night stand. But no matter what, Amanda was still one hell of an agent and Zea knew she'd have her back on their cases together.

"What happened last night? I waited for you for like, two hours!" Amanda pulled her inside the cozy briefing room, shoving a cup of steaming coffee into her hand, "Two hours of my life wasted. You owe me four minutes on the coffee."

Zea felt a flash of guilt as she remembered the events of last night. She'd promised to meet Amanda at the Devil's Handbag, a club in section four, for a few drinks to catch up. She let her hand drift to her waist, where the half-healed wound itched under all the bandages.

"I got stranded in the Ghetto, sorry." Zea took Amanda's arm, "Here."

Zea barely glanced at her arm as her clock dwindled down to 0000:00:1:10:24:01. Amanda took the time grudgingly, sipping at her own coffee.

"Four minutes for a coffee? Really?" Zea sighed, yanking her leather guard back down over her arm and taking a seat in the back of the room.

Thomas Langston stood in the front, pointing to the blinking screen. Most people paid no attention to him and flicked through their case notes.

"So what happened?" Amanda looked concerned.

"Just a run in with the Minutemen. It was nothing." Zea didn't want to talk about her close brush with death, "What've I missed?"

"Just the usual rounds today." Amanda shrugged as she slid a thin folder across the table, "They're dividing us into pairs. I've got section 4 with TimeKeeper Jean."

They both grimaced. Jean wasn't the type to go out into the field. She was better suited in front of the computers.

"Washlington!" Thomas barked, "You're cleaning up the Ghetto today with Leon."

Zea groaned. Already, she was being sent back to that hellhole. Working with Raymond couldn't be pleasant either. She'd never been partnered with him before, but those that had, like Jaeger and Kors, his usual sidekicks, usually complained about his independent ambition that almost always led them into risky situations. In short, most nobody wanted to work with him. Although it wasn't official, most people treated Raymond Leon as the boss; his cold indifference and fierce determination set him apart from everyone else. Even though she'd worked close to him for 5 years, reporting to him after every case and proving herself a valuable asset, she knew next to nothing about him. Raymond Leon was a peculiar enigma.

"Look, there's Ice Hottie now!" Amanda giggled, tilting her head towards the doorway.

Zea watched as Raymond Leon stepped into the room, confidence hanging like the sun behind his straight shoulders. His black trench coat hung loose over his muscular arms and he wore a fitted black shirt and black jeans tucked into black boots; his typical black ensemble.

"Glad you could join us, Leon." Thomas said dryly.

"Good morning, everyone." Raymond addressed the whole room, but his eyes locked with Zea's for a second too long.

"Oohhh, Ice Hottie's looking at you!" Amanda stage whispered, nudging her with her shoulder.

Zea stood, stomping roughly on Amanda's foot under the table before walking to the front of the room. Thomas looked sultry as he slammed his palm onto the table.

"All right, Time Keepers. Get out!"

And that was their dismissal. Thomas stopped her on their way out the door.

"We'll be needing that car back, Wash." Thomas smirked, "It's your responsibility. It's not cheap."

"I'll get it." Zea yanked her arm from his grasp.

She didn't particularly like Thomas Langston. He was too arrogant, too rash. Raymond didn't say a word as he pushed the back door open, leading them into the parking lot where the police cruisers sat waiting. They passed Amanda sitting on the hood of a cruiser.

"Hey, Raymond!" Amanda crossed her legs and smiled sweetly, "Keep my baby safe!"

Raymond let a cold smile slide over his perfect features, "Absolutely, darling."

Amanda laughed, waggling her eyebrows at her. Zea shot her a glare, looking at Leon apologetically. He looked amused as he opened the door of the next police cruiser.

"How's your hip?" Raymond fixed the rearview mirror, taking his gun out of the holster and leaving it on the dashboard

"I'm fine." She mumbled, settling into the passenger seat.

She'd lost some of her pride last night when Leon had saved her life and it left her disgruntled. Everyone knew how prideful she was and sometimes it overshadowed her sweet-natured kindness. Having this debt to Raymond Leon, of all people, did not make her happy.

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><p>"Has anyone ever told you that you drive like a maniac?" Zea fought to regain some stability, taking deep breaths against the dizzy vertigo.<p>

She'd spent the last ten minutes gripping the door handle and wishing she'd died yesterday. Raymond was insane behind the steering wheel. He swerved in and out of traffic, avoiding collisions by a mere second and drove through the Ghetto with hairpin turns.

"Every time." Raymond got out of the car and came to her side, opening the door.

She didn't have to look to know he was grinning. His gun was back in the holster and his badge gleamed on his belt.

"Get out. We have work to do."

Zea stepped out, glancing around the alleyway he'd parked in. She was a bit disturbed to realize she didn't recognize this part of the Ghetto.

"Where are we?" she squinted against the heat of the sun as Raymond began walking towards the street.

"Behind the bar." Raymond turned back to grip her arm tightly, "Keep up."

Zea muttered something unintelligible as he practically dragged her down the street. The people of the Ghetto shrank back into the shadows at the sight of two TimeKeepers walking swiftly down the street. Zea stopped suddenly as she saw a dead body in the street. Tearing her arm out of Raymond's vice-like grip, she hurried across the street, crouching low next to the body.

It was a young woman, her red shirt bunched up around her rib cage and pants torn at the knees. Her red hair was tangled, street debris speckling the beautiful red strands. Zea fought to keep that empty feeling of despair from creeping over her heart.

"Wash." Raymond's voice was uncaring as he hauled her up.

"Wait." Zea stretched out her arm, her fingers brushing against the cold skin of the woman's arm.

0000:00:0:00:00:00

All zeroes. The woman had timed out. Zea turned away then, allowing Raymond to drag her away from the horrible sight. Not again. Not another one. Zea swallowed the bile that rose to her throat as she imagined how many other people would die. A memory:

_Zea knew even before she opened the door that something was wrong. The lights were on but silence lay like a shroud over the room. The body lay under a heap of pristine, white sheets. The angles were all wrong._

"_Keirnan?" Zea choked on the scent of dead flesh, "Oh god no!"_

_A pale arm peeked out from under the edge of the innocently white blankets. An arm with faded, black numbers._

_0000:00:0:00:00:00_

_Zea screamed; an ear-splitting sound tortured with heartbreak._

"Washlington! Wash! Look at me!" a rough hand grabbed her chin, forcing her out of her blackest memory.

Through the blur of tears, she could see a pair of ice blue eyes. She clung to his arms, struggling not to drown in the pain and despair she'd unknowingly dredged up.

"Look at me." He said again, forcing her chin up, "Get yourself together!"

The present world came rushing back in a cascade of foul smelling air and she knew she was back in the Ghetto. She jerked her chin out of Raymond's grip, wiping furiously at the tears that betrayed her emotions. How ridiculous, losing face in front of another TimeKeeper. Zea mentally berated herself as she struggled to lock away the black memory, chasing it into the furthest corners of her mind. She couldn't think about it, not now. Raymond had the grace to turn away as she collected herself. When she met his eyes again, she couldn't understand the emotion that lurked behind his beautiful aquamarine eyes.

"You can't let something like that get to you." Raymond said quietly.

"I know." Zea said bitterly, turning away from him to walk up the street, "Why should I care, when people are dying on the streets?"

"That's not what I meant." He kept up with her angry stride.

"Who cares what you mean?" Zea whirled around, "Who cares what anything means?"

She was filled with an indescribably anger to punch him, to wipe that cold, calm expression off his face. She shook with a wild, confusing anger. He met her infuriated glare with a cool, collected gaze.

"What's the point of being a fucking TimeKeeper when all we do is lose time?" Zea clenched and unclenched her fists, "What we do – we're just taking their time. We are _not_ contributing to the greater good!"

Raymond's face suddenly closed off as he stared at her with a mask of indifference. She hated it.

"We have a job to do, TimeKeeper Washlington." Raymond snapped, continuing on their trek up the street, "Do not forget that."

Zea felt the anger deflate like a balloon and suddenly, she felt ashamed of her outburst. What if he thought she was emotionally unstable and had her discharged for it? What would she do then? Zea sighed, clutching the sides of her trench coat as she followed him into the rural town of Dayton.

She could already tell today was going to be a long one.


	3. Crazy

Chapter 3

It was unnervingly easy to find.

Raymond had that way about him, that quality which terrified others into admitting the truth. Zea blamed it on his eyes; those deep, dizzying orbs of ice blue intelligence. It was impossible to lie while staring into his beautiful eyes. He made you _want_ to tell the truth. Zea watched with amusement as he interrogated the fourth person to walk by them, his hand clenched over his shining black holster.

They'd spent the last three hours breaking up a couple of bar brawls, intimidating a debtor into paying his time, arguing with the pawnbroker who seemed to be cheating the citizens out of their time, and arresting three more men who were suspected in stealing time capsules from the warehouse. It was highly entertaining to watch Raymond manhandle these men into submission. His face would twist into an expression of intense concentration while he wrung arms behind backs, knocking their feet out from under them. She usually hung back, seeing no need to interfere with Raymond's effectiveness.

They'd passed seventeen more dead bodies.

Zea pursed her lips lightly as Raymond grabbed the man's arm roughly, almost shouting in his face, except his voice was low, dangerous, and utterly terrifying. Everything about Raymond Leon was ice cold.

"Leon." Zea pushed away from the dirty wall, reaching out a hand to stop his quivering fist.

The man froze for a second before whirling around and darting away, taking his chance at escape. Raymond jerked his arm free of her hand, huffing out an angry breath.

"I almost had him." Raymond said angrily, "Why did you stop me?"

Zea rolled her eyes, "He wouldn't have been able to tell you anything with his teeth all over the road."

"Whatever." He swished his trench coat as he turned the other way, "I have a pretty good idea of where it is. Come on."

She sighed and followed him, studying the way his back tensed against the uniform coat as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He was angry and frustrated, just as she was; only she could control it better right now. They didn't have time to waste being influenced by anger. She tugged on the end of her wrist guard, glancing at the clock.

0000:00:1:04:51:23

When today was over, and she'd been paid, she would give Leon back his 2 days' time. She owed him at least that much.

"I knew it." Raymond rounded the corner and they found themselves standing in another filthy alleyway.

Her cruiser sat at the end of the alley, lonely and bleak. Zea rushed over, brushing her hand against the familiar dent in its hood, grimacing in dismay at the three bullet holes that smattered the passenger-side of the front windshield. She opened the door to release an eye-watering stench of beer and general filth. Empty beer bottles littered the back seat and someone had left there sweat-soaked shirt in the passenger seat. She shuddered thinking about what had taken place in this back seat. She'd never be able to drive her cruiser again.

"It's filthy." She groaned, taking out her flashlight and using it to throw the shirt out the window.

Raymond opened the passenger door, his mouth turned down in a calculating frown. A black heel poked out from under the driver's seat and Zea reached down to grab at the shoes underneath.

"Those kinky bastards." She cursed, fishing out her kitty heels, "They kept my shoes."

Raymond raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. She dropped them. They'd been touched by those disgusting minutemen; she didn't want them anymore.

"Think it still runs?" she asked, grabbing a few bottles and flinging them out into the alleyway.

They smashed to smithereens on the graffiti-ed brick wall.

She heard Raymond crawl into the passenger seat, reaching over the gearshift to touch the steering wheel.

"They probably took the keys."

"Time?"

"Unresponsive." Raymond said as he wriggled his wrist under the steel bar.

"Damn." She muttered, throwing a few more empty beer bottles out of the car, "This'll take days to clean. I suppose I'll have to get it deep-cleaned too. It smells like shit."

Raymond's lips quirked into a sarcastic smile, "It won't be cheap."

Zea imagined smashing an empty bottle into his impassive face. Bastard.

"Hey!"

A voice floated down the alleyway and Zea cursed as she snapped upright, banging her head against the car frame. Rubbing the offending spot behind her head, she straightened, peering down the alleyway where three figures blocked the exit. Raymond placed one hand on the hood of the car, analyzing. They'd put themselves in a bad position, backed up into a corner.

"What do you think you're doing?" the middle man sauntered down the alleyway.

Her skin prickled with a chill as she recognized Fortis and his Minutemen cronies. Raymond came around the back of the car to stand slightly in front of her, his feet set shoulder width apart.

"Stay right where you are, citizens." Raymond's deep voice echoed down the alley, "This is TimeKeeper business."

Fortis smirked, "That's our car."

"Shut it, Fortis." She clenched her fists, hatred trembling in my limbs as she stepped out from behind Raymond, "You wrecked my cruiser, asshole."

Fortis' eyes widened as he recognized her, "Look boys, its Little Zea!"

He clasped his hands together delightfully and Ryzea ground her teeth together. Fortis grinned real wide as he tsked at her.

"Oh, to think that Little Z became a TimeKeeper." Fortis' grin widened, "Whatever would dear Kiernan think?"

She literally saw red for a moment. Forgetting her pride, her dignity, Ryzea let the anger, the pain, and the hurt take over as she screeched furiously

"Don't you dare speak about him! You killed him, you fucking bastard, you killed him!" Zea screamed, struggling against the sudden iron grip Raymond held on her arms, "Let me go! I'm going to kill you, Fortis. _Let me go!_"

Raymond pulled her backwards against his chest, fingers digging into the skin of her forearms, "Stop this right now, Ryzea. Stop it."

The tears blurred her eyes as Fortis threw back his head, cruel laughter bouncing off the walls; just like the night he took her best friend away.

"You shouldn't make such serious accusations without any proof, sweetheart." Fortis advanced forward, twirling his gun lazily in his right hand.

She panted harshly, tasting blood as she bit the inside of her cheek, rage shaking her entire body. That hell bent determination on revenge came back in full swing, buried for so many years. She'd never before wanted to kill anyone as much as she wanted to kill Fortis now.

"Step away now Fortis." Raymond's voice was cold as hell, "You have no business here. You stole government property. Consider yourself lucky I'm not taking your time now."

Fortis rolled his eyes, "I'm so frightened. Actually, this _is_ my business. You've got something of mine that I want."

Fortis' clear blue eyes raked over her body as Zea struggled against the urge to punch him. He leered at her, leaning forward so that she could smell the beer on him.

"Poor little Z, reduced to associating with filth." Disdain colored Fortis's voice as he glanced at Raymond, "Why don't you come back to us, Z? The boys _especially _miss you."

Ryzea burned with embarrassment and rage at the indication in his words. She took advantage of the slack in Raymond's grip, bringing her hand around to slap Fortis across the face. He looked shocked for a moment as she glared daggers at the three men. Her palm stung victoriously.

"Shut your fucking mouth." She hissed, "I'll never come back to you."

Just as Fortis raised his gun, Raymond had already shot Fortis' two men, and aimed the barrel directly between Fortis' eyes. Both of them were shocked by his deft and silent movements. Once again, Zea was struck by how ruthless Raymond Leon really could be. Fortis narrowed his eyes.

"Step aside." Raymond's grip on the gun never wavered, "Once again, I repeat; this is official TimeKeeper business. Give us the keys."

Fortis seemed to realize that the odds were now two against one and he pocketed his gun slowly, hunching his shoulders calmly as his blue eyes burned bright with malice. Ryzea gripped the open car door in an effort to control her anger as a lazy smile split across his face. Fortis pulled the keys out of his slacks pocket, tossing them towards Raymond. They landed with a _clink_ at Raymond's feet.

Fortis turned, throwing a smirk at her over his shoulder, "I'll come back for you later, darling."

Raymond threw a restraining arm across her ribs as she started forward, her gun already halfway out of her holster before Ryzea even realized what she was doing.

"Leave." Raymond kept his gun trained on Fortis's retreating back, "Now."

"Tight ass bitches." Fortis laughed as he disappeared around the corner.

Ryzea didn't relax; the anger and emotional pain still simmering underneath her skin. She was almost relieved when Raymond turned his hard, cold eyes on her. She shivered involuntarily, knowing she was about to receive a verbal lashing.

"Get in the car now."

She knew he was pissed. This wasn't at all how she thought the day would go. She didn't argue against the formidable anger in his brilliant eyes and breathed through her mouth as she slid into the passenger seat. Raymond got in a moment later, turning the keys in the ignition.

The silence was frigid as he drove them to where they'd parked his cruiser just this morning. Raymond slammed the door, instructing her to meet him at headquarters in a distant, cold voice. It was almost early afternoon, near twelve in the afternoon by the time they both reached TimeKeeper headquarters. She dropped her sullied cruiser off in the back, resolving to wash it later after she'd gotten her daily report handed in. She felt grimy and dirty as she pressed her wrist against the door-lock, pulling the door open harshly as she tried not think about what had happened today.

Amanda arrived just a few moments after Ryzea had settled at her desk. The spunky TimeKeeper marched immediately over to Zea's desk and wrinkled her nose.

"You reek." Amanda pinched her nose daintily, "How was your date?"

Amanda wiggled her eyebrows, glancing over at Raymond's closed office door. Ryzea was in a foul mood and ignored Amanda's suggestive comments, raking her pen across the paper as she penned out the events of that day. She left out most of the details and the more she wrote the angrier she got.

"The paper's not going to strike back, you know." Amanda sat on the edge of Zea's white desk, tapping her manicured nails lightly on the polished surface, "That bad, huh?"

"Let's just say that Raymond Leon is a frigid cold bastard and I wish I'd never left my apartment this morning." Ryzea spat, chucking the pen at the operation board screen.

It clattered to the tile floor uselessly.

Amanda whistled cheerily, "Tell me something I don't know."

Amanda pranced away towards her own desk and Ryzea thumped her forehead against the desk. She itched to take out her frustrations in the training room; to do _something_ to unleash all this anger and hurt that was boiling inside her.

In just two days, Raymond Leon had witnessed her cry, scream, and effectively break down. She'd never even done any of those things in front of Amanda, the closest thing she'd had to a friend since Keirnan. Something in that bastard just made her freaking lose it.

She closed her eyes, breathing through her mouth as she clenched the edge of her desk, turning her knuckles white. She was fucking losing it in the middle of the office! _Pull yourself together, Zea. Breathe. Breathe. Relax._

She shuddered as she forced the tension out of her muscles, sitting up straight and tapping the screen in front of her. She needed to distract herself; she made an appointment with the government car insurance company to get the cruiser deep-cleaned and went to the bathroom. Twice. Splashing cold water over her face, she preened herself to make it look like she hadn't just been kicking the stall doors in a mad frenzy of fury.

What would Keirnan say if he saw how crazy she was right now? She could almost imagine his peaceful amber eyes looking at her intensely, almost drawing out the anger until she felt weak, defenseless under his gaze. His eyes were always like that. She imagined his strong, calloused fingers gripping her forearms and the way his jagged blonde hair swept into his eyes when he looked down at her. It was rare that he ever got that disappointed look and it always made her feel ashamed, dirty, low. She imagined that look now and collected herself, tilting her chin up and biting her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

She missed Keirnan.

She allowed herself that one little pain to seep through the iron walls she'd built around her heart. Then a moment later, she tucked it away into the bottomless pit of sins in her soul and walked out of the bathroom without feeling. At just that precise moment, Raymond's pristine white door opened and he yelled across the hall.

"Washlington!"

Everyone looked up, apprehensive.

"Conference room, now." Raymond stepped out of his office, calm and collected with that indifferent expression on his handsome face.

Just by that glimmer in his eye, she could tell that whatever was waiting in that stupid room was_ not_ going to be pleasant.

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><p><strong>Please R&amp;R! :)<strong>


	4. Classified

**Hey, so I know it's been a ridiculously long time since I updated, but it's because I've had writer's block! Thanks for sticking with me!**

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

She crossed her legs nervously, controlling the wince that flickered through her jaw bone as the movement caused pain to itch in her side. Raymond's hands were folded neatly on top of the thin stack of papers and his face was the perfect picture of disinterest. However, she was surprised to realize she could notice the tell-tale sign of his jaw twitching, a sign that meant he was apprehensive…and maybe a little irritated. Since when did she start noticing stupid mannerisms?

"What we are about to discuss will not, under any circumstances, leave this room."

Ryzea returned her attention to the square-fitted, business suited man that sat in front of them. He was sitting in the Director's chair, which had been empty since the last director had died in the field. A new a director hadn't been instated for almost two years and no one dared to even look at the seat of respect. Not even Raymond Leon. The fact that Thomas Langston _and_ Raymond Leon were allowing this man to sit in this chair meant this rich man had a significant position of power. Thomas shifted nervously from his watchful glance next to the oak desk, glancing at the closed and locked door. Ryzea was highly self-conscious of the gun that rested snugly against her thigh as she eyed the sultry looking guards that stood just behind the Director's chair. They wore identical black and white uniforms, the usual from New Greenwich. Ryzea felt a surge of irritation as she glanced at the classified folder that had been placed before her.

"I am Henry Hamilton of Hamilton Corporations, perhaps you have heard of me?" the rich man quirked an eyebrow, breaking the business-like expression.

Ryzea sucked a surprised breath. So this was the infamous Henry Hamilton, ruler of New Greenwich, in terms of Time. It was rumored he was more than 105 years old, the richest and oldest man alive today. His company was responsible for maintaining the time system and sponsoring the TimeKeepers. Without him, the world would have collapsed into anarchy and chaos a long time ago. She had developed a grudging respect for his name, but had never seen his face. What was this man doing in TimeKeeper headquarters.

"I see that you have." Mr. Hamilton's smile disappeared, replaced with that grave expression, "I'm afraid I'm here with grave information."

The silence in the room grated on her ears.

"State your business Mr. Hamilton." Raymond Leon spoke, once again taking control of the situation.

"I am here to inform you of a high-security risk situation that has sprouted in New Greenwich." Henry Hamilton's hazel-gold-green eyes darkened, "Even our most highly trained professionals are at a loss of what to do. I had no choice but to approach your superiors. After all, it _is_ a TimeKeeper's job to keep the peace, is it not?"

"What are you saying?" Raymond asked.

"Someone is murdering the citizens of New Greenwich."

Even the guards behind Henry Hamilton shifted with unease. Ryzea took all this in a stride, not really comprehending the statement. The words spilled from her mouth before she could stop them.

"Why us?"

Why was she here, sitting in this office, listening to a highly classified case? Was she even qualified?

"You three were specifically chosen for this case, recommended by the highest of your superiors." Mr. Hamilton frowned.

Ryzea blinked. She didn't even know she had superiors. She always took her orders from Raymond Leon or Thomas Langston. But then she guessed they needed to get their orders from someone else; it wasn't like they had the authority in headquarters to assign and order out cases. She wondered who these "superiors" were and why nobody had ever thought to mention them before.

Mr. Hamilton placed a heavily ringed finger on the yellow folders on the desk "CLASSIFIED" stamped across the front in big, bold, black ink.

"Six months ago, February 6th, Carrera Willis was found dead in her luxury suite, 0900. Time of death was estimated at around 0745 that morning. She was bound, gagged, and stabbed seven times in the chest. Autopsy shows that she was also sexually assaulted. No sign of forced entry and no incriminating DNA were found at the scene of the crime. She was drained."

Ryzea choked on the harsh taste of bile that rose to her throat. Who could be so heartless and cruel? Why would anyone do this, even to a spoiled citizen of Greenwich? She forced herself to listen as Mr. Hamilton continued to flip through the neatly printed pages. Neither her, nor Raymond had opened their own folders. She didn't want to look at the pictures, didn't want to know the details.

"Exactly two weeks later, February 20th, Greta Reese was found dead in her private firm office, 1000. Time of death estimated at 0801 that morning. Same injuries; also sexually assaulted. No sign of forced entry and once again, no DNA. This woman was also drained."

"March 1st, Jesse Nixon, 0831; at his aerial apartment. Time of death, 0700. Seven stabs to the chest, neck snapped. Forced entry through the bedroom window. No DNA. Also drained."

"March 17th, Lillian Withers, 0845; at her private estate. Time of death, 0606. Same injuries, sexually assaulted. No sign of forced entry, no DNA, drained."

"March 23rd, Nick Kensington, 0900; in his luxury suite, 0555. Same injuries as Mr. Nixon; forced entry through the front door, no DNA, drained."

"April 3rd, Rick Yelling, 1244; in his luxury suite, 0411. Same injuries as Mr. Nixon, same forced entry as Mr. Kensington, no DNA, drained."

"April 30th, Derek Bilek 1121; at his private estate, 0522. Same injuries as other male victims. This time, no force entry, no DNA, drained.

"May 14th, Julianne Carris, 1100; in her private condo, 0633. Same signature female injuries, sexually assaulted, no forced entry, no DNA, drained."

"June 10th, William Julierre, 0400; in his luxury suite, 0600. Same injuries as other male victims, except for a stab wound to the back. Force entry through the _back_ door, no DNA, drained."

"June 28th, Sarah Drenzick, 1530; in her private estate, 0301. Same signature female injuries, sexually assaulted, no forced entry, no DNA, drained.

Ryzea trembled as Mr. Hamilton drew a pained breath.

"10 victims in the last 6 months. Our very best have not even managed to scrounge up a lead. The victims' ages, preferences, ethnicity, professions, anything in common are all over the place. There's nothing that ties these victims together." Mr. Hamilton closed the folder carefully, "Only that they were all killed in the same, gruesome way."

They could have heard a pin drop in the deafening silence that reigned through the room. Thomas Langston looked like he would hurl any minute.

"And you want _us_ to take on this…this case?" Ryzea gripped the arms of the plastic, office chair. "What makes you think we could do any better than your … _professionals_?"

She nearly spit in horror, rage, despair, shock, pain. The whirlwind of emotions split her soul and she felt like she was dying inside. Who could do such a despicable thing, to drain someone of their time and kill them like that? Who could have such a malicious heart?

"TimeKeepers have the authority to go places, to press people that _we_ as a wealthy, but publicly bound corporation, do not." Mr. Hamilton's voice was hard and wary, "We cannot let this go on any further. We must stop this serial killer because he claims his next victim."

"How do you expect us to do that?" Raymond's was voice was equally hard as he finally opened his folder, shuffling through the papers at an inhumanely fast pace, "We don't have the funds to conduct an investigation of this depth in New Greenwich."

Ryzea bit her lip, torn between wanting to dive headlong into the case and wanting to burn the folder as fast as possible and forget everything that had just happened in the last half hour.

"As president of Hamilton Corporations, I am willing to cover any and all expenses during the course of this investigation." Mr. Hamilton pursed his lips, "Make no mistake; my first and main concern is to catch this bastard who thinks he can waltz around _our_ community and _kill_ innocent, well-respected citizens."

She understood the bitterness and hatred in his voice as she dared to open her own folder. She forced herself to quickly glance at each and every bloodied photograph, skimming through each gut-wrenching detail. Everyone was silent as the three TimeKeepers suffered the horrors of the folders' contents. She was filled with a strange sense of justice, a new vigor to hunt down this criminal and make him pay for everything he had ever done.

"What would you have us do?"

Raymond's determined voice broke through the silence as Mr. Hamilton sighed in relief. She wondered if Raymond had even considered asking if her or Thomas was willing to participate in an investigation this dangerous.

"Under these circumstances, you three will have to carry out the investigation in strict secrecy." Mr. Hamilton twisted his gold watch, "You will proceed into Greenwich to commence this undercover operation; fake identities, fake backgrounds, fake lives. You will provided with the necessary paperwork and equipment."

Thomas cleared his throat, "Just us three?"

Raymond sent him an ice-cold glare as Mr. Hamilton nodded, "Yes. We cannot afford to disclose this information to any more people. A three-man operation will have to suffice. But your superiors have assigned five agents to help you with this task. They will essentially be a part of your undercover team, however we have chosen not to reveal the sponsor of this operation. When you arrive in Greenwich, they will have been briefed with only the most necessary information. No one but you three may be allowed to know that we are backing this operation. Your five teammates will be told that we are tracking down a code-red imminent threat."

"But why?" Ryzea pushed the folder to the side, "Wouldn't it be easier if everyone on our team knew the truth? An important part of an undercover operation is about trust and dependence. We won't succeed if we're keeping secrets from one another."

Surprisingly, Raymond nodded, his face grim, "Why is it so important that you and your company must need to keep your anomity?"

Abruptly, Mr. Hamilton's face closed off, "I assure you, the identity of your sponsor is a trivial matter. No need for everyone to know."

Ryzea wondered why, but by the look on Henry's face, she knew not to ask again. Animosity crackled between Henry Hamilton and Raymond Leon. She knew Raymond was never good about taking someone else's orders. He yielded to no one. She knew better than to think that he was a loyal lapdog to the government. He was his own team. It would be hard working with him.

Ryzea lifted her chin firmly, "Don't worry, sir. _We _will try our utmost best to _close this case_."

For the first time since that meeting, Mr. Hamilton genuinely smiled, "Then that's all I can ask of you."

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><p><strong>Remember Henry Hamilton? Well he's the big corporate figurehead in my story. The other canon characters will be popping up too, don't worry! Heehee :)<strong>

**I haven't completely thought out all the details of this plot/undercover operation thing so forgive me if you find contradictions later on.**

**I'm not really good at keeping all the details in line, I change my mind sometimes.**

**PLEASE R&R! :D**


	5. Commencement

Chapter 5

"Washlington."

Raymond was _growling_ at her! She fought back a giggle, noticing without fail how his usually slicked-back hair was now messy and out-of-place, a result of his sleeping on the ride here; here, being New Greenwich. Mr. Hamilton had provided them with a sleek, black limousine, complete with a minibar and state-of-the art entertainment systems. Thomas Langston was out cold in the back seat, drunk and snoring quite loudly. The man couldn't hold his liquor for his life!

Ryzea eyed Raymond as his arm shot across the table, attempting to snatch the wine bottle from her hands. She noticed that his reflexes were a mite slower than usual – probably another result of his recent nap, allowing her to jerk her arm back, wine sloshing onto the seat. She laughed, feeling slightly light-headed.

After briefly going home to pack and taking a much-needed shower, she'd met Thomas and Raymond back in headquarters an hour later. Mr. Hamilton had wished them a quiet good-luck as they piled into the rich limousine. They had been in this car for three hours now, just passing Time Zone 6. Thomas had been the one to find the minibar. Thomas had indulged himself, sneering rudely at Raymond, who'd decided to lean back against his seat and close his eyes.

"I don't drink." Was his cold reply when she tried to offer him a glass.

What she found interesting was that Thomas Langston flirted shamelessly when he was drunk. In just an hour of friendly drinking, his hand was squeezing her thigh in a way that sent a queasy feeling through her stomach. She fended off his slurred, sloppy advances with uneasy laughter, relieved when he passed out in the backseat after she'd pushed him over there.

Soon, she was left to sit by herself. In her boredom, Zea found herself studying Raymond Leon as he slept. The longer she watched him, the more she realized that Raymond could quite possibly be an emotional human being like the rest of them. Unconscious, his face was cleared of all cold emotions and she thought he looked innocently young. Sharp, angular cheekbones defined his handsome face, a perfect nose, and killer black hair. She watched as his eyelids twitched every once in a while and imagined what he might be dreaming about. Ryzea grew somber as she drummed her fingers on the wine bottle. Despite what Thomas might have thought, she'd barely drank half a glass, busying her fingers with her hair, toying with the neck of glass. She had no intention of getting drunk of such an important mission.

Raymond sighed deeply and she watched his lips part slightly, the rough lines of his forehead easing slightly. He really was infuriatingly handsome.

Just as she was reaching across the table, driven by the urge to brush his hair out of his close eyes, wondering if his hair was as soft as she'd imagined it would be, he shifted awake.

She froze in her movement, horrorstruck at the thoughts that had been crowding her mind. What had she been _thinking_? To touch his hair? She was embarrassed and slightly disgusted with herself. She changed the path of her hand, grabbing the bottle of wine instead, hastily pouring some of the awful liquid into her glass.

So here she was, giggling unreasonably as the thought that Raymond Leon looked adorable just as he was waking flitted through her mind, trying to keep the wine bottle out of his reach.

"How much have you had to drink?" He demanded, his _blue_ eyes piercing through her weird, happy state.

Zea instantly sobered as she slammed the bottle onto the table, the laughter dying in her throat. She was hurt that he thought she would drink carelessly. Did he really think so little of her?

"Do I look drunk to you?" She narrowed her eyes, nearly ready to throw the bottle at him.

He seemed put off by her change of attitude, blinking once before leaning back, running a hand through his messy hair. She glared at him, waiting for a reply.

"Put the wine away, we're almost there." Raymond sat up, straight and tall.

She recognized his 'I'm done with this conversation' face and seethed inside. She wanted to shake him and yell at him. To tell him that she was taking this case seriously; she wasn't a knuckle-head. She was a TimeKeeper for godsake! The TimeKeeper that, apparently, their superiors had chosen to work with him. She was once again irritated by his condescending demeanor.

God, this man was impossible.

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><p>A few hours and frigid silences later, Ryzea stood outside the entrance of <em>L'hotel de Déesse<em>. The name was laced across the front of the golden-glass building in bold, silver letters. She stretched her neck backwards as far as it would go as she tried to glimpse the top of the building. When the limousine had passed through Time Zone 4's checkpoint, she had practically had her nose pressed up against the window, taking in all the sights and peoples of New Greenwich. There was actually green, fresh _grass_ here! Along with tall, glass buildings and regal-looking estates that lined the bustling streets of the city. Men, women, children, and pets alike were donned in expensive clothing, brands, and accessories. The richness of the city nearly blinded her. She couldn't help but stare in awe. In all her life, she'd never believed she would ever see, much less be _living _in New Greenwich. It was near evening when the limousine stopped at their intended destination

When they arrived at the hotel, Ryzea felt insignificant as she stepped out of the vehicle, shivering in the new, shimmery, _gold_ cocktail dress that had been provided by Mr. Hamilton. Her arms were covered to the elbow in white, satin gloves; her glossy, brown hair twisted torturously into an elegant bun at the top of her head, a cascade of loose curls cascading around her bare shoulders; her feet stuffed into black stilettos and _real_ diamonds tinkling from her earlobes. She felt naked and exposed, standing in the middle of this new, foreign city. She felt like she didn't belong.

Thomas, being drunk and slightly hung-over, stumbled out of the car in his slightly-wrinkled tuxedo, the usual black and white ensemble. He glowered at everyone who walked past. His hair was slicked back, revealing muddy, black eyes and a uncharacteristically dark look on his face.

Raymond Leon, however, _looked like he belonged_. She wondered absently if he'd ever been here before, because he certainly acted as if he had. He hadn't stared like her, sweeping over everything with the usual distaste and disinterest. His rich, black blazer was unzipped, allowing a glimpse at his white dress shirt neatly tucked into black dress pants, black dress shoes, black silk tie, black hair that he'd somehow gotten to look perfect again. Not a wrinkle could be seen. He stood with his shoulders straight and his general air of confidence oozed through those formidable ocean-blue eyes. He spoke to the bellboys with a clipped, business-like tone, managing the entire affair with ease.

She stood, silently watching as he took command of the situation. A chilly wind breezed by, ruffling her hair and causing her to shiver slightly.

"Are you cold, love?"

She turned to catch Raymond slipping his black blazer around her bare shoulders, wrapping her in the lingering heat of his body warmth. She stepped back, surprised, until she saw the calculating look in his eyes. Of course, this was part of their cover: as husband and wife.

She nodded, forcing a smile, "Thanks."

Her cover: Leah Sterling, 49 years old, respected New Greenwich citizen, and wife to one, Reid Sterling. Which of course, was Raymond's cover; 57 years old, wealthy, _well_-respected, handsome New Greenwich businessman. She scowled at the thought of this arrangement. She had been inclined to refuse this cover identity, seeing all the future complications that came with working and _living_ with TimeKeeper Leon, but when Raymond accepted the cover without complaint, she sucked up her pride and personal conflictions, and silently took the cover. It was better than Thomas's anyway: Matthew Orlando, 56 years old, long-time, loyal, _personal _keeper of the Sterling family. He was stuck to Raymond's side, obliged to answer to Reid Sterling's every whim. She snickered silently, wondering how Thomas would handle this turn of events.

"Matthew, be a gentleman and grab my bags will you?" Ryzea struggled to keep the smile off her face as she looked at Thomas, "It's chilly out here and I want to go inside."

Thomas adopted a sultry look before snatching up her new, expensive travel bags, "As you wish, Mrs. Sterling."

Raymond was still conversing with the limousine driver, one of Mr. Hamilton's men. She stepped into their conversation politely, placing a light hand on Raymond's arm.

"I'm going inside first, darling." Ryzea forced herself to add the endearment, her fingers tightening momentarily on his arm before smiling sweetly, "I'd like to see exactly what your sister was gushing about. You'll check in, of course?"

She saw the understanding in his eyes as she squeezed his arm gently before stepping away. She was going first to recon the new room – that they were sharing _together_ – and had given him the task of recon in the lobby. As for the mention of a sister, Mr. Hamilton had informed them that one of their agents would be undercover as Mr. Sterling's sister, and Mrs. Sterling's best friend. Ugh.

"Of course." Raymond smiled and she blinked in shock, before rearranging her features into what she hoped was a grateful smile.

Ryzea stepped into the revolving doors, stunned that she had just witnessed Raymond Leon actually _smile_. She shook her head, smiling ruefully.

Maybe this mission would be some fun after all.


	6. Recon

**Hey there readers! Glad you made it this far!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

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><p>Chapter 6<p>

The condo was even better than she'd ever hoped to imagine. Everything was expensively modern and _techy_. The kitchen was a sprawling mass of marble, stainless steel, glass, and polished wood. The white, comfy sectional that took up the living room faced a huge, looming, plasma TV. The entire far wall was made of wall-to-wall glass windows that overlooked a spectacular view of New Greenwich. She didn't like the fact that it made a huge portion of their condo exposed. She glanced at the set of white double doors behind the sectionals. She hadn't had the courage to open those doors yet since they led to the bedroom that she was _supposed_ to share with Raymond. She shuddered, pushing away those thoughts. She could worry about that later, now she would start recon out here…right after she took the stupid dress off.

Making sure the drapes were properly closed and every door was locked, Ryzea left the cocktail dress and gloves on the floor, taking in deep breaths of relieved air and stretching her tightly, cramped limps. She tugged out all the irritating pins in her hair, shaking out its familiar weight and massaging her head against the headache that had begun to spread from the tightly-fastened bun. She dug through her personal travel bag that she'd carried to the room by herself, relaxing when she threw on a simple white, sundress. She didn't need to pretend where no one was looking. Against her better judgment, she kept on Raymond's blazer as she scoured the condo from bottom to top, searching every inch, nook, and cranny for cameras, taps, and bugs. She rushed through the bedroom and the luxurious bathroom, trying not to think about the fact that she would have to share all this with Raymond Leon for the next few weeks. Raymond's subtle cologne mixed with the clean, crispy smell of the new material and flooded her senses as she hugged the blazer closer to herself. She hadn't realized he smelled so good.

Suddenly, she realized what she had been thinking and horrified by the direction of her thoughts, discarded the blazer onto the sofa.

Ryzea mentally chastised herself as she emptied the contents of her bag vigorously. Cards, documents, equipment, and emergency clothes spilled out over the coffee table and shifted through them, stuffing her clothes back into her bag. She organized the documents, carefully avoiding the CLASSIFIED folder that she'd pushed to the corner of the table. After reorganizing the papers, records, and necessary cards, she placed them in their respective briefcase, setting the lock quickly.

Almost excitedly, Zea began to clean her TimeKeeper equipment. The gun, the flashlight, the handcuffs, keys, the switchblade, the taser, the baton, and of course her phone and specially-equipped sunglasses. Never before, had she had a reason to use these, until now. After going through her cleaning routine, Ryzea reluctantly packed everything back into her bag, leaving the equipment on top, in easy reach for emergency situations. They wouldn't be doing much tonight. To the extent of her knowledge, they would start the investigation tomorrow.

Just as she'd begun to zip her bag closed, the door lock clicked open. With practiced reflexes, Zea grabbed her gun, almost flying to wait with her back against the column that separated the kitchen and the living room. Her heart beating wildly, she discerned a man's footsteps crossing the threshold and then closing the door softly. She counted the seven steps it took to reach the column she was hiding behind before swinging around quickly to face the intruder, her gun trained directly where she estimated his chest would be.

"Are you going to shoot me?"

Raymond's voice startled her and she lowered the gun, embarrassed that she'd pulled a gun on her own teammate. He looked down at her with eyes as calm as the glittering sea.

She clasped her hands behind her back, gripping the gun with nervous hands, "Sorry, I –"

"Good instincts." Raymond cut her off before brushing past her, "The lobby has three openings, the front door, the employee entrance, and the emergency exit. The lobbyist rotates shifts every 6 hours, four shifts a day. There are 531 employees; 4 managers, 56 bellboys, 108 maids, 60 janitors, 28 waitresses, 75 waiters, 60 on the kitchen staff, 15 lobbyists, 10 lifeguards, 90 on the security staff, and 100 other reserve employees. The dining room is open from 1400 to 2200. Breakfast is served from 0500 to 1000. Lunch from 1130 to 1500. The bar is open every day from 1000 to 2200. The guards rotate shifts every 4 hours, 5 shifts a day, 17 to each shift."

Ryzea blinked and gave what she could, "Nothing's wrong with the condo."

Raymond looked exasperated.

"The wall-to-wall windows are a weak point though." Ryzea smirked, "The kitchen is a blind spot in relation to the door. The door has three locks and a security alarm that routes to the bedroom. The bathroom has no windows and one, _very_,long mirror. We can set up the table behind the couch and prop the smart board up against the couch. Mr. Hamilton said we would be provided with a techie, so he can handle setting up the network and stuff. Nothing's bullet-proof."

Raymond raised an eyebrow, "The bedroom?"

Zea fought the blush that rose to her cheeks, "There-there weren't any bugs or anything, if that's what you're asking."

She pretended to ignore him when he unlocked the double, white doors and stalked inside. A few moments later, he emerged with that same carefully blank expression.

"Wall-to-wall windows on the left side, four-poster king-sized canopy." Raymond paused by the kitchen counter, "Huge closet. It's filled with brand new clothes."

Zea made a noncommittal sound as Raymond examined the kitchen cupboards.

"Where's TimeKeeper Langston?" he heaved a heavy, black bag she hadn't noticed before onto the coffee table next to hers.

"He was supposed to bring my bags up before me." She pointed towards the door next to the bathroom, "Look, the next room adjoins to – ours."

She tried to say it nonchalantly, but stiffened when Raymond paused in unpacking his bag. The diamond ring sitting snugly around her right ring finger suddenly felt a lot heavier. A split second later, the adjoining door banged open and both TimeKeepers jumped up, training their guns on the surprised intruder.

"Nice condo." Thomas Langston threw her bags on the floor, a scowl on his face, "Here are your stupid bags, Wash."

"Thanks, Langston." Ryzea lowered her weapon, stooping to pick up the heavy travel bags.

"There's six other condos on this floor besides ours." Thomas spread himself out on the modern couch, looking pleased with himself, "901, 903, and 904 are currently occupied. 906 and 907 are our sister condos. The other five agents will be staying in those rooms. I'm staying in room 815, directly below your condo. 816's also a sister room. There's obviously 10 floors above the main lobby. The North Elevator's out of service. Floors 1-6 are the temporary hotel residents. All those rooms are sold out. All condos on floors 7 and 8 are also sold out. Floor 10 houses two royal suites. Only one is being occupied right now, by a Mr. Philippe Weis."

"You mean _the _Philippe Weis of Weis Time?" Zea placed her gun on the table carefully, "What's someone like him doing in the _L'hotel de Déesse_?"

Thomas grinned, "Pleasure before business."

"I'm pretty sure it's the other way around." She said wryly, "Seriously, Langston?"

He clasped his hands behind his head, lazing back against the couch, "They say the best casino is just around the corner. We should take a look, you know, do a little recon?"

Raymond snapped the safety clip off his gun, cocking it menacingly, "We're not here to enjoy ourselves, Langston. The case is the only reason we're here."

Thomas scowled, "Hardass."

They both ignored him.

Thomas sighed before getting up and making his way toward the door, "Enjoy your honeymoon."

He winked and Ryzea couldn't help but blush, frowning at him as he threw his head back and laughed.

"Get out, Langston." Raymond slammed the door behind their fellow TimeKeeper.

She picked up her new travel bags and hurried into the bedroom, eager to stay away from Raymond Leon. The entire situation was embarrassing enough as it was and what Thomas had alluded to hadn't made things any better. She could've punched the stupid asshole.

Ryzea unpacked as quickly as she could, hanging up the new clothes Mr. Hamilton had provided in a small space at the back of the gigantic closet. The racks were filled with plastic-covered garments, probably for undercover purposes. She didn't dare look at them, afraid she might chicken out if she did. She didn't like expensive things, didn't like ruining them. She always felt extremely conspicuous in things that attracted attention and admirers. She took a long shower, double-checking that the bedroom doors were locked. Dressing in a loose-fitting T and a faded pair of jeans, she wrung her hair dry.

She'd avoided glancing at her arm all day after Mr. Hamilton had given them the appropriate amount of time needed for this mission. Now she squashed down her misgivings and took a cautioned peek.

0050:11:5:13:01:31

50 years, 11 months, 5 days, 13 hours, 1 minute, and 31 seconds left on her clock. More than she'd ever seen in her _entire_ life time. And she had it all on her arm. In the beginning, Raymond had received 75 years, 11 months, and 5 days. Even Thomas had gotten 25 years, 11 months, and 5 days. All this time just to keep their covers.

Ryzea trembled with several conflicting emotions. Awe, elation, fear, disgust. How could she stand having this much time on her clock when people in Dayton dropped dead every second that ticked off her saturated clock?

She swallowed thickly, pushing back the dark thoughts and exited the bathroom. Pulling on her leather wrist guards, she avoided looking at herself in the mirror – she hated mirrors – and stepped into the living room. Raymond looked up when she came in.

"You can have the bathroom now." She said quietly as he straightened up from the mess of papers strewn across the coffee table.

He seemed to stare at her for a moment before speaking, "You should get some sleep. I'll take the couch."

Surprised, she argued back, "No it's alright, I can take the couch."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're sleeping in the bed." Raymond raked a hand through his hair, making parts of it stick up in the back.

"You're my superior, it's only right that you take the bed." She insisted, shaking her head.

"Don't argue with me." Raymond said with such finality that she relented, sensing that he wasn't going to yield anytime soon.

"Fine." She strode over to him, reaching out to take his arm, "Give me your arm."

"Why?" he raised his arm anyway and she gripped it tightly with her right arm.

His skin was warm.

"If I'm taking the bed, then I might as well return this time to you." Ryzea avoided his gaze, instead staring down at the numbers flickering across his arm.

0075:11:7:17:37:11

"You don't need to- "

She cut him off, "Don't argue with me."

He fell silent as the glowing green numbers on her own arm dwindled.

0050:11:3:08:24:52

When she was done, he wrenched his arm from her grasp. She stepped back quickly, stumbling over her own quickened breath.

"G-good night."

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><p><strong>Please R&amp;R! :)<strong>


	7. Operation Hedd

**In case, you don't realize this, this is the next morning, when they meet the entire team! :)**

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><p>Chapter 7<p>

The room was filled a tension Ryzea couldn't place. Apprehension, uncertainty, fear, distaste, _distrust_. All six other pairs of eyes in the room were tinted with a shade of distrust.

When you were working in such a hazardous profession as a TimeKeeper, you learned to trust _no one_. Not even yourself.

Zea swallowed, taking a deep breath, "Why don't we get started?"

Seven pairs of eyes came to rest on her. She suddenly felt nervous and unsure of herself. But then she steeled herself, remembering the urgency and importance of this case. They couldn't wait any longer.

"This is a classified TimeKeeper business, nothing inside this room shall be repeated outside these walls. Not even to eachother." Ryzea placed both hands onto the conference table she'd set up in their condo, "This is officially Operation _Hedd_. Our mission is to apprehend and lock down a serial killer."

Thomas Langston shifted uneasily, tapping his fingers distractingly on the yellow CLASSIFIED folder, "This is a covert operation, meaning sworn secrecy. Remaining our cover identities is the single most important thing during this mission."

The only other woman in the room flicked her long, blonde hair behind her ear, "Isn't there supposed to be eight agents on this mission?"

Ryzea raised her eyes to meet the woman's sea-green ones, "Well, TimeKeeper…?"

"TimeKeeper Constantine Willows."

The new voice in the room startled nearly everybody, coming from behind Ryzea's shoulder. She had time to notice the look of surprised content on the blonde TimeKeeper before she turned to find herself staring at Raymond Leon's smooth collarbone.

"Raymond!" Constantine Willows nearly jumped across the table as she flung her arms around the man's neck, nearly knocking Zea off her feet.

Everyone in the room stood watching awkwardly as Raymond stood stiffly in Constantine's embrace. Zea narrowed her eyes as she noticed the gentle look on his face. She'd never seen it there before. It was plain to everyone that Constantine Willows meant something to Raymond Leon.

"Connie." Raymond pried away the ecstatic young woman, "It's nice to see you."

Constantine smiled brightly, "I should've known they'd put you on this case, too."

Thomas coughed purposely, snapping the happy bubble that seemed to have surrounded the two reunited TimeKeepers. Raymond's gaze snapped up and his eyes hardened as he seemed to remember where he was.

Raymond cleared his throat, "Good morning, TimeKeepers."

"This is TimeKeeper Raymond Leon." Ryzea filled in for him, irrationally angry at him for being late, "He's running point on this mission. I am TimeKeeper Ryzea Washlington and this is TimeKeeper Thomas Langston, all from Time Zone 12."

She looked at the four other men in the room with a measured gaze. The first man set down his CLASSIFIED folder, squaring his broadset shoulders.

"I'm TimeKeeper Alex Tundress from Time Zone 8, Weapons Specialist." Alex slapped the light machine gun strapped to his chest for emphasis.

His kind amber eyes clashed with his fiery, red, cropped hair. She thought he could've pulled off intimidating if he didn't smile so much with his eyes.

"I am TimeKeeper Brian Proctor from Time Zone 6, Resident Technician." The second man with distinctly Asian features spoke in a quiet voice.

His shiny, black hair reached past his chin, curling squarely around his ears and matched quite nicely with his sharp, sunset eyes.

"I'm TimeKeeper Gus Derrington from Time Zone 10, happy to be of service." A handsome head of blonde hair stood out most on the third man, whose grin and twinkling green eyes were slightly mischievous.

"He's a troublemaker." Constantine put in, with a teasing smile, "Right, Ian?"

The fifth man did not smile as he was addressed, "TimeKeeper Ian Greenly, Time Zone 10."

Constantine giggled in a way that reminded Zea of Amanda, "You're so serious all the time, Ian. You and Raymond could be brothers."

Thomas snorted. Ian remained silent with shadowed midnight eyes, his ashen blonde hair framing his perfect face. Ryzea tried to smile encouragingly at all her fellow TimeKeepers.

Raymond stepped to the smart board, taking out the sleek, black thumb drive and plugging it into the side of the smart board. The atmosphere changed into one of hard-core business. Ryzea clutched the folder tightly in her hands, waiting as the board came alive with the thumb drive's contents. OPERATION HEDD flashed across the screen quickly followed by CLASSIFIED.

Everyone waited with baited breath.

"You've been briefed?" Raymond scanned the room briefly, seeming satisfied at the tightly drawn drapes, locked doors, and closed expressions.

"Yes." All traces of careless fun in Constantine's voice was gone.

"Then you know that we have a serial killer in New Greenwich." Raymond's strong fingers flicked over the screen, bringing up 10 individual headshots.

"10 victims in the last 6 months." Raymond repeated Mr. Hamilton's words, "No evidence. No DNA. No connections. No leads."

"If we don't have any of that, how are we supposed to know what we're looking for?" Alex looked doubtful as he opened his folder.

"The last victim was killed only 6 days ago. We know that the criminal has almost unlimited access to all of these people. No forced entry in any female cases and sexual assualt indicates our unsub is a male."

"Unsub?" Gus raised an eyebrow.

"Unknown Subject." Zea replied helpfully.

Constantine flipped through the papers of her folder quickly, "But what's his MO? All his victims are all over the spectrum. Why is he choosing these particular victims? What is he killing them for?"

The room was silent for a moment as each TimeKeeper rifled through the contents of the CLASSIFIED folder. Ryzea leaned against the back of the sofa, studying each picture of the ten crime scenes. Each was bloody, horrible, and the same.

"He's draining all their Time." Raymond tapped the smart board, shuffling through each picture of each dead body; he jabbed his finger at each victim's arm, "He wants Time."

All zeroes.

Raymond went on, switching back to the 10 profiles, "Each of our victims is a wealthy, well-respected New Greenwich citizen, each with at least 100 years' worth of time. Right now, someone is running around in this city with more than 1,000 years on their arm."

He leveled each of them with that calculating stare, measuring up their worth, their stance, their ability. Zea closed the folder softly.

"If he continues on his killing spree and stealing Time from these corporate businesses, eventually every Time-Loaning company out there will collapse. If these companies are gone, then so is our Time. Dayton will go first, then Time Zone 10, then Time Zone 8, and so on. It would mean the end of our economy, the end of the Time system. People will die." Raymond narrowed his eyes defiantly, "Our job is to make sure this man does not get _any more Time_."

"How come the citizens are not aware of this serial killer?" Thomas set down his folder carefully, crossing his arms.

"Giving him a public face would only encourage him more and frankly mean chaos for business." Ryzea answered a bit reluctantly, "If the citizens were made aware of the danger, everyone would go into hiding, terrified that they would be next. Nothing would get done, the economy would shut down and the supply of Time would stop. We can't afford that."

"But why does he want Time?" Gus scratched his head thoughtfully, "It can't be just about greed. After all the Time he's taken, he could've easily just stopped and used the money to start a billion-dollar profit, maybe even a business. But he's lying low; he's waiting for something. He's meticulous in his killings, down to the dehumanization and terrorizing of his victims."

Zea sighed, "He won't trust banks or Time Capsules, which means he's keeping all that time to himself. We're looking for a man that shouldn't have that kind of Time."

"So we're looking for a man who stands out?" Alex looked confused.

"No." Zea shook her head, "The fact that he's been able to kill so many people so easily means that he's well integrated into society. He knows the traditions, the customs, the mannerisms, enough to get close to his victims. He knows how to be a New Greenwich citizen."

"How do we know he isn't from New Greenwich?" Thomas argued, "It could just be about more power, more Time."

"The only people that can kill like that come from the Ghetto." Raymond cut in sharply, "We're looking for someone who came from Dayton."

Ryzea was insulted, "Isn't that a big assumption? Not all of Dayton's people are cold-blooded, power-hungry morons."

"Poverty makes people desperate." Raymond's tone stung, making her angry.

Constantine tucked her hair behind her ear quietly, "We don't know for sure where the unsub comes from, but we can say for certain he isn't from New Greenwich."

Everyone seemed to agree with the statement, although Zea couldn't help but feel a little hurt at Raymond's quick declaration. She came from Dayton, she should know!

"Today is about gathering information." Raymond looked away from her to address the whole team, "In order to learn about our unsub, we need to know everything about our victims. Because we are undercover, there is no hope of speaking to families, coworkers, employees, and associates. We'll need to memorize their lives by paper."

Thomas groaned, "Don't we have the files from Greenwich's professionals?"

Raymond shot him a dark look, "Those are just summaries. By learning every detail of our victims' lives we can hopefully get a rough read on our unsub. Tundress, I want you to get a thorough reading on the city's security, especially the hotel security staff. Proctor, the city network, cameras, anything and everything that was recorded over the last 6 months, phone calls, messages, you get it. Derrington and Willows, familiarize yourselves with the infrastructure of the city, I want to know every backwater alleyway in New Greenwich. Draw a map if you have to."

Gus groaned as Constantine grinned, "I've always wanted to drive one of those fancy electric cars!"

"Everyone's going out under their cover identity." Raymond stepped away from the smart board with a serious expression, "We'll meet back here at 2230."

"What am I doing?" Thomas sniffed, frowning.

"You're coming with me." Raymond glanced at her quickly, "You too, Wash. We're going to get to know the people."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ryzea pushed away from the sofa, still slightly irritated.

"We're spending the day out in the city as Mr. and Mrs. Sterling." Raymond looked amused, "With our faithful Keeper, of course."

Thomas scowled, "Fuck it."

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><p><strong>Heheh. :)<strong>

**Btw, if you didn't know, _Hedd_ is Welsh for "peace". I know it's a bit lame but whatever.**

**Please R&R! Feedback would be amazing! Thanks so much for reading.**


	8. Fake

**Hey! I'm so sorry it took so long to get this chapter up! I was stressing with finals, so without further ado. Here you go!**

**Damn, I did it again. Sorry, here's the revision. :)**

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><p>Chapter 8<p>

It was strange, pretending to be someone she wasn't.

Ryzea turned her head slowly, learning from past experience that if she moved too quickly, dulling pain would snap across her scalp. Constantine had pulled all her hair back into an elegant twine coiled tightly at the top of her head, fixing it in place with hair sticks of marquis rhinestones and flowers. She itched to free her feet from the satin straps of her black heels that pinched her toes. Tiny strands of rubies hung from her ears that matched with her red, strapless sweetheart dress, cinched slightly below the left hip with glittering diamonds that wound delicately up her torso. The back dropped perilously low, making her constantly uncomfortably, especially when Raymond placed his hand at the small of her back – as he was doing now.

"There's Mr. Priming." Raymond's hand was hot against the exposed skin of her back as she allowed herself to be guided over the polished, marble floors, "Walk faster, will you?"

This was their 18th social gathering of the week and it was hardly evening yet. She struggled not to scowl at the thought of another stupid gathering. If she had to listen to any more of this mindless chatter, she'd shoot herself with the gun strapped to her thigh. She reasoned with herself that maybe, just maybe, if the next place had larger portions of food rather than the tiny servings that the waiters were carrying around here, she might be able to suffer through just one more party.

Raymond Leon had dressed in a pristine, white button-down over which he wore an immaculate, black tuxedo jacket complete with pressed, black pants. He was the epitome of a confident, wealthy businessman, especially with his hair slicked back. Raymond took everything in a stride, smoothly placing himself in the middle of every conversation and making himself known as the handsome, highly-educated, and charismatic Mr. Sterling. In just a mere 9 hours, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling had become well-known and well-received into the slippery game of politics and society. Of course, she played her part as the beautiful, intelligent, and kind-hearted Mrs. Sterling.

Zea teetered on the edge of another step as she glared at him, "You try walking in these deathtraps!"

He suddenly grabbed her wrist, yanking her against his side. She almost dropped her slim, white, leather clutch. She wrinkled her nose in surprise and attempted to struggle out of his strong grasp.

"Careful." Raymond frowned, "You almost knocked over the pedestal."

She wrenched herself away from him, shooting him a withering glare, "I can walk by myself."

Raymond ignored her, pressing his hand to her back again and steering her towards their intended subject. Mr. Edward Priming, this evening's host, stood amongst a small ring of corporate businesses, all matching in perfect, luxury business suits. Shoving aside her growing irritation, Zea plastered a smile on her face as they approached the exclusive group.

"Good evening, gentlemen." Raymond dipped his chin a fraction to acknowledge the wealthy men that turned to greet them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sterling," Mr. Priming raised his wine glass, "A pleasure you could make it."

Finally, Raymond's hand dropped from her back to shake the outstretched hand of each bulky man. Taking a glass filled with something she didn't know from a passing waiter allowed her to avoid shaking hands with anyone. Introductions were passed throughout the group, but Ryzea ignored them.

"Your house is lovely, Mr. Priming." Zea smiled, gesturing carefully with a gloved hand, "I've been eager to take a peek at your astounding collection of Renilizza Vites. I heard it's breathtaking."

And utterly boring.

Mr. Priming jumped on the chance to boast, "Oh, my dear, you underestimate my obsession with cars. My daughter always complains that we could start another company with all the Time I've spent on my collection."

"It truly is the best collection in New Greenwich." She replied smoothly.

"I would be delighted to give you a personal tour some time, if you like." Mr. Priming grinned slyly and she fought the urge to shudder.

"That would be wonderful." Zea smiled sweetly, glancing at Raymond as the conversation seemed to dwindle.

"Next thing you know, she'll be starting her own collection." Raymond supplied and she forced a laugh.

"Please excuse me gentlemen," Zea stepped back to indicate her leave, "I was supposed to meet Miss Hale in the board room.

She had to stretch up on her tiptoes to press her lips lightly against Raymond's cheek. He remained stiff under her touch and she forced herself not to inhale his calming scent. When she drew away, he gave her knowing look and she smirked in return.

"Behave yourself, dear."

She quickly put as much distance between Mr. Priming and herself, heading for the left, double doors. She tried not to walk to fast, so as not to attract attention. She stopped every now and then as various faces stopped her for a quick chat. She impatiently listed off generic answers, ending the conversation effectively in order to reach her destination.

Once she escaped into the empty hallway, she dropped her shoulders, leaning heavily against the wall. The soles of her feet hurt and the ache at the front of her head was becoming fierce. Ryzea cursed under her breath, massaging her temples. She hurried to the bathroom in the East wing to start today's mission.

Not surprisingly, the bathroom was crowded with posh ladies, touching up their unblemished faces and gossiping in obnoxious voices. Zea smiled politely as she entered, closing the door of the closest stall behind her. She breathed slowly, twisting the small, silver bracelet that dangled from her left wrist. In it was her personal tracking device, something that would help the other TimeKeepers locate her easily. She snapped open the light clutch, palming into her touch-screen phone. Especially designed for undercover operations, the phone was sleek, black, and unadorned.

She sat down on the toilet seat, rolling her ankles in relief as she opened the Locator. Gus and Constantine had done a very good job on mapping the city, complete with the meticulous details of every house, garden, alley, and parking lot. Today, they should be mapping the last sector near Groves Estates. Zea sighed, watching as 8 green dots blinked alive amongst the millions of lines and shapes of New Greenwich. She was surprised to find that Thomas was lurking around somewhere on the top floor, but she would deal with him later. For now, she had to set up the cameras.

The team had deduced that Carrera Willis, Greta Reese, Lillian Withers, Nick Kensington, Rick Yelling, Derek Bilek, Julianne Carris, William Julierre, and Sarah Drenzick each had a significant role in the Time-Loaning business. Because of their deaths, two companies had already collapsed, driving the price of life up to 40%. This made the most likely targets those that controlled the Time-Loaning companies. Over the past week, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling had visited every corporate businessman president in New Greenwich's Time-Loaning Company Union. Thankfully, there were only 10 significant members:

Mr. Richard Yamano

Mr. Edward Priming

Mr. Samuel Wylis

Mr. Jason Shipley

Mr. Philippe Weis

Mr. Henry Hamilton

Mrs. June Rackliose

Mr. David Hummers

Mrs. Leanne Johnson

At each social gathering, Raymond distracted everyone while she snuck around the estates, placing micro-cameras at every entrance. Her job was disastrously tricky, since wealthy citizens apparently thought to put their own security cameras in every blasted corner. She had to fake tripping, falling, bumping, and even walking into a door once to disguise her movements.

Thankfully, tomorrow would be the last house. Philippe Weis's house.

Zea licked her lips and waited for the women in the bathroom to lessen. Why, oh why, did they have to touch up their faces every single moment? She wrinkled her nose at the vanity and giggles on the other side of the stall door. What she heard next made her heart catch in her throat.

"Did you hear about Sarah?"

"Sarah Drenzick? Oh poor thing, I heard it was her son's fourteenth birthday too."

"How awful!"

Azalea ground her teeth with nervous energy, straining her ears to hear over the chatter in the echoing bathroom.

"Are you talking about Sarah Drenzick?"

"I told her she needed to start a low-salt diet. It's all her own fault, really."

"Phyllis!"

The other women admonished the rude one quickly before they left together. Her hands shook slightly as she closed her purse, clutching the phone in her hand as tightly as possible. A heart attack? They were covering up the murders?

"Really, what did you expect?" Ryzea muttered to herself, fixing the stupid heels so they wouldn't chafe against the soles of her feet, "Nobody wants to know about a serial killer! No, of course not!"

She felt silly whispering to herself in this luxurious bathroom, but she was undeniably pissed about the cover-up. Of course, she saw the point and was, essentially, indirectly contributing to it. But what she hadn't told her team was that she hated all cover-ups. She hated lies. The people deserved to know. The victims deserved to have people grieve about the malicious injustice done unto them. But it would just make their jobs much more complicated.

With only two more women dawdling in the bathroom, Ryzea slipped out quietly, keeping her eyes down to avoid any eye contact. She just wasn't the best at lying, or acting, for that matter. Without missing a beat, Ryzea edged along the wall, keeping her eyes on the invisible line she'd estimated where the security camera's span ended. It was a tight fit and the tight dress wasn't helping any.

After seven doorways, she was out of breath with only two more microcams to go. As she passed by a cluster of hawk-nosed women, she made sure to twist her wrist to hide the empty silver sets on her bracelet where the micro-cams had been. Once she rounded the corner, she relaxed somewhat. A few times, she had been so close to tumbling into the view of a security cam, her heart pounding in her ears as she stilled, biting her lip to calculate her next step. There had been some _very_ close calls at the previous houses and she couldn't afford another mistake.

After painstaking reaches, she managed to lock the last two security cameras on the double set of back doors, taking a much relieved breath.

It was hard work, TimeKeeping business.

Just as she was heading back to the ballroom, Mr. Priming rounded the corner and she stopped mid-stride, look for all the world like a guilty person. Why was he here, _now_? Why hadn't Raymond warned her. Oh shit, he had spotted her.

"Mrs. Sterling." Edward paused, looking confused.

She smiled shakily, "M-Mr. Priming."

"Whatever are you doing here?" Mr. Priming narrowed his eyes.

Ryzea swallowed, "Oh, you caught me! I got lost when I tried to sneak a second peek at your Vites collection. They're really all I've ever wanted, and you know how my husband is."

She prayed that he accepted her hasty lie. The churning in her stomach made her bite the inside of her cheek. She'd almost forgotten that nauseous feeling she got after every lie that spilled from her tongue.

"He's so uptight about Time _all _the time." She tried to laugh.

Mr. Priming swallowed her lie and grinned brightly, making her cringe.

"Well, why didn't you tell me, dear?" Edward covered the rest of the distance between them and took her by the elbow, "I'll take any chance I can get to show off."

She mustered a weak chuckle and allowed him to tow her along. She was cautious that she was alone, with one of the most powerful men in New Greenwich. The rich and powerful didn't have many morals, even towards women. Reaching into her purse would only arouse more suspicion. She couldn't risk any more after Mr. Priming's sudden appearance. So Ryzea straightened herself in his grip and followed him with what she hoped was regal-ish grace.

Right turn, third left turn, four doors down, left turn, pass the ugly flower painting, down one flight of stairs, pass three doors, left, right, right, left – oh, huge door.

She tried to memorize the way as Mr. Priming led her farther and farther from what she was sure was the populated ballroom. Swallowing her own misgivings, she watched as he flicked the code into the number pad by the menacing iron doors -4665.

"The number of dolls my daughter has." chuckled as the iron door slid open with a beep, "Quite ingenious, if I say so myself."

"How adorable. She must never get bored." Zea allowed herself a small smile.

It was a little endearing and a whole lot stupid. Ryzea wondered if he told everyone the code to his mass of vintage cars. Each one could sell for almost 100 years on the market.

"Here we are, my secret hideout." Edward Priming waggled his eyebrows.

Surprised, Ryzea wondered if the old man was trying to flirt with her. Of course, he didn't look old, almost just as young as Raymond himself, but nowhere near as handsome. She thought she remembered reading in his file that he was somewhere near 60. Ew.

"Oh, how lovely." Ryzea swept a gloved hand across the polished door of a midnight blue ViteG60, "I must say, I'm in love with your collection."

She eyed the rows upon rows of glossy, vintage cars that could only be attained in New Greenwich. She could've given her own life three times to get one of these and it still wouldn't have been enough. The price disgusted her.

"This is wonderful." Zea glanced over her shoulder as Mr. Priming beamed.

"You can choose one to try out if you like."

Zea blinked, "Oh no, I'm afraid I'm just not that great behind a wheel. Reid does all the driving."

He shook his head, "Nonsense, a car like this is made for someone as beautiful as you, Mrs. Sterling."

Baffled by the underlying current in his tone, she could only flutter her eyelashes, "You flatter me, Mr. Priming."

Opening the shiny car door, he motioned for her to get in, "I would be insulted if you didn't take up on my offer."

Smoothing the dress behind her knees, she obliged, sliding into the heavenly, leather seat, "I suppose one little ride won't hurt."

In truth, the glimmer of excitement sang like a current under her skin as she placed her hands carefully on the smooth wheel. She'd always harbored a secret wonder for the electric cars of New Greenwich.

Mr. Priming slid into the passenger seat as she searched for the ignition. She supposed she looked like an idiot, sitting with her hands in her lap as she tried vainly to understand.

"It's a new model, so everything's voice activated." Edward chuckled, leaning over the console and speaking towards the screen, "Engine, start."

"Oh!" Ryzea didn't know what else to say as the car hummed to life.

She shifted gears carefully as Mr. Priming pressed a button somewhere and the barred, black gate opened at the end of the cavernous garage. Pealing out of the garage was somewhat satisfying as the tires squealed against the tile floor.

"Where to, Mr. Priming?" Ryzea asked politely as she zoomed out of the driveway.

The wind streaked through her hair as Mr. Priming laughed lightly, "Anywhere you want, my dear."

Ignoring the growing suspicion at his endearing behavior, Ryzea turned a sharp left and slammed on the gas pedal. The force snapped her head back against the seat and tendrils of hair that had escaped whipped around her face lightly. She couldn't help but feel somewhat exhilarated as they sped down the wide road. Even the TimeKeeper cruisers couldn't go this fast.

Forgetting completely that there was someone else in the car, Ryzea lost herself to the rush of reckless driving. Taking blind turns and rushing traffic lights made her mind spin. She thought her laughter sounded borderline hysterical. In all her serious work, she never really got to enjoy herself. Everywhere she turned there was always death, anger, and desperation. Dayton was her nightmare and her whole life she'd spent trying to wake up from it.

Being in New Greenwich as someone else felt liberating. Through those few hair-pin turns she imagined that she wasn't Ryzea Washlington. She was Leah Sterling, an outstanding citizen of New Greenwich with all the freaking Time in the world. Leah didn't know anything about murder, about poverty, about living for each second. Mrs. Sterling could live forever in this world.

This fake world.

The thought snapped her back into reality and Ryzea slammed on the brakes, causing the car to screech to a stop with a dangerous lurch. Cars blazed past with loud, obnoxious honks that pounded through her skull. She sucked in a huge amount of air, trying to recompose herself through all the sparkling lights of the rich city, brushing the wild strands of hair from her face.

Shit.

She was in for total shit. Ryzea refused to look at Mr. Priming, muttering a light apology as she pulled back onto the road calmly. She'd left the mansion without so much as a word, abandoned her mission for those brief few minutes. What a fool she was, to think she could run away from this horror of a life. This was her job, and she paid the price for it – constantly.

"This car makes me crazy." Zea attempted to smooth the awkward silence as the city breezed past them, "I _have_ to get one of these. Pray tell, Mr. Priming, how much do you think one costs now?"

If Edward Priming was freaked out about her liberating episode, he didn't show it. Instead he grinned and reached across the console to pat her knee. She shifted uncomfortably as they reached the driveway. She licked her lips in relief – even through her crazy joyride, she'd remembered the way back.

"It's alright, Mrs. Sterling." Mr. Priming chuckled, "Consider this my gift to you; you're driving was spectacular."

"Oh, Edward, I couldn't!" Ryzea reluctantly let out a high-pitched laugh as she parked nicely back into the proper space, "And really, everyone knows my driving is dreadful. You're just humoring me."

"Humor me then." Edward leaned towards her as his eyes wandered towards not so appropriate places,

She should never have used his first name. She'd created an opening for him and they were alone in _his_ garage. Damn it. Just because he was rich, did he think he could get anyone he wanted? He had to know she was married (or supposedly anyway). Ryzea fought the urge to spit in his face and quirked her lips upwards as she stepped out of the car.

"I can't thank you enough, Mr. Priming." Ryzea watched carefully as he came around the back of the car, standing closer than socially appropriate.

"No, thank _you_, Mrs. Sterling." He laid his hand directly on top of hers from where it lay on the car door.

Just as she opened her mouth to extract herself from this awkward situation, a familiar voice echoed off the polished walls.

"Leah! There you are!"

Raymond's voice was like a bullet through the suspending silence and she stepped away from Mr. Priming hastily. She was disgusted, and a little amused at the sour expression that flashed across his face. Turning, she caught sight of those ice, blue eyes a moment before Raymond stood before her. She read the silent fury in his face and looked away shamefully. It was like he knew what she had been thinking during that drive.

"I've been look everywhere for you, love." Raymond's eyes were ice as he lifted her fingers to his lips, "You nearly gave a fright. Where have you been?"

"It's my fault really, Mr. Sterling." Mr. Priming straightened his pressed blazer, "I couldn't resist showing your wife my rare collection."

"I hope she wasn't too much trouble?" Raymond slipped an arm around her waist, to keep up appearances.

She was uncomfortable and irritated at the same time, "I'm not a child, Reid."

"I know that." Raymond even dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

She wanted to stomp childishly on his foot. Instead, she distracted herself with the bemused man that still stood before them.

"I had a wonderful time, Mr. Priming." Ryzea smoothly extracted herself from Raymond's cold embrace to pluck her white clutch from the dashboard, "I couldn't bear to take something as grand as this, really."

Edward sniffed, almost dejectedly, as he said, "If you insist, my dear. But you're welcome to my collection any time."

"Have a nice evening, Edward." Raymond nodded all business like as he pulled her toward the iron door.

She dreaded what would inevitably come next as he practically dragged her down the hall. The ride back to the hotel was swathed in frigid silence and she couldn't help but wonder why every time, it ended like this.

With him, mad at her.

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><p><strong>Yeah, this was kind of like an on-the-spot chapter. I didn't really know where I was going with it, but...yeah...<strong>

**R&R please!**


	9. Weis

**Hey everyone! I'm so sorry that it's been such a long time. I sort of lost my drive for the plot line, but I'm trying to remember everything that made me want to write this story in the first place. Thanks for still sticking with me!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 9<p>

"You can't hide from him all evening, _Mrs. _Sterling."

Zea jumped at the familiar voice by her shoulder, almost knocking over the silver platter that hung over the edge of the pristine table. She looked over to see Constantine looking up with expectant, hazel eyes rimmed with black eyeliner. The female TimeKeeper looked stunning tonight, in sky blue evening dress that hugged her slim frame perfectly and her long, blonde hair modestly hiding her exposed back.

Rolling her eyes, Ryzea scoffed, "I'm not hiding from anyone, _Katherine_. I just decided to have a drink, that's all."

Katherine Sterling was known as Reid Sterling's delicate sister, adept in all virtues of modern art and grace; essentially the perfect lady. Not two seconds into the door, Constantine was swarmed with hordes of eligible, ostentatious, young bachelors eager to flatter and please. The woman had everyone hanging from her fingertips. To keep up the charade, Zea snatched a glass of wine from the table, lifting it carefully in Katherine's direction.

"You don't drink wine." Constantine winked, giggling quietly as the crystals tinkled along her earlobes.

"Shutup." Zea forced herself to sip at the bitter liquid without making a face.

The Weis's house was a fantastic mass of marble, crystals, and ornate furnishings. Zea was overwhelmed by the gleam of every polished tabletop and glassware in the room. Too many people lingered along the edges of the entrance hall and more spilled into the lounges – yes, plural.

"People will start getting the wrong impression if you spend so much time avoiding your husband, _Leah_." The woman smirked as Ryzea choked on her wine.

Constantine patted her lightly as Ryzea struggled to regain normal breath. She hated it when Constantine teased her about her cover. It just wasn't fair! Connie and Raymond would have made a much more convincing couple. Besides, she was holding a grudge against Raymond Leon after the last social gathering. An hour of cold shouting matches and slammed doors later, Ryzea was left fuming in the bedroom as Raymond sullied the condo with his dark mood. She didn't understand why he was so angry. All she did was take a car for a little spin. Nobody suspected anything; it was normal to be care-free right?

_You almost blew your cover with your crass! _

_We're supposed to be catching a serial killer, not indulging in our every little whim! _

_You have no idea how serious this is!_

_You're incompetence could get us killed next time!_

Ryzea tightened her grip on the glass, the memory of stinging insults flying around the room. Nobody had ever made her as angry as he did. She wanted him to stop blaming her, to stop being such an ice-cold jerk. Everything was always her fault. Her attitude, her methods, her routine; it was always wrong to him. How could anyone work with such a self-absorbed jackass? He had no right to say things like that. They were supposed to be working as a team. But every night, the team met, Raymond brooded and resisted participation. He did everything on his own. Why the hell did he give them tasks if he was just going to yell at them later for not doing it his way? And her, crass?

"Bullshit." Ryzea snarled under her breath, glaring at her partner from across the room.

Raymond was immaculately dressed as always, conversing quietly with a cluster of businessmen in one of the closer lounges. He'd refused to look at her all day and the straining silence between them could freeze an entire continent. She hated it. She hated him.

"If you glare any harder, he might catch on fire." Constantine mused, flicking strands of hair from her face.

"Don't you have a job to do?" Zea snapped, irritated beyond comprehension.

What was it about him that brought out the worst in her?

Ryzea sighed as Constantine frowned.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I guess I am a little off today."

"Don't worry about it. I totally understand." Constantine smiled gleefully, "All that sexual tension is bound to blow up sometime."

Zea was left standing open-mouthed and shocked as Constantine sauntered away, bold and confident. What the hell was that woman talking about?

"Sexual tension my ass." Ryzea whirled around, practically shoving her way into the opposite foyer; anything to get away from Raymond.

Holding tightly to her small, leather purse, she avoided talking to anyone else as she made her way to the empty balcony that stood looking over the expanse of shining, midnight sea. Instead of feeling calm however, they just reminded her of the color of Raymond's eyes. Idly, she remembered that his eyes turned the exact same color when he was undeniably furious.

Realizing the direction of her thoughts, she shook her head frantically. God, she needed to get him off her mind.

"It's mesmerizing, isn't it?"

Startled, Zea turned to see a man she didn't recognize at the door of the porch. His honey, brown hair is shaved close to his head and she can't help but notice the peculiarity. Most men she'd seen in New Greenwich were quite vain about their hair. Gray eyes with a hint of purple were the most outstanding thing about him though, and she didn't move as he came closer.

He tilts his chin towards the crashing waves below them, "The sea, I mean."

"Yes," Ryzea became acutely aware that they were alone on the balcony, "Definitely."

"I wonder why nobody's swimming." The man mused, his voice low and contemplating.

"Hmmm…" Zea couldn't think of anything else to say.

She continued to gaze out at the sea, feeling dark and lonely. The night brought along darkness and less than good things seemed to crawl at the edges of her mentality. It wasn't that she was afraid of the dark, no definitely not. Ryzea Washlington wasn't afraid of anything. The dark night just brought a general feeling of uneasiness. And she was standing next to a complete stranger, having awkwardly put herself in a vulnerable position.

The Sherri Hill dress she was wearing certainly wasn't made for the chilly night atmosphere. The halter, floor-length evening dress was elegant, yet a little on the daring side. Sequined fabric fell from the sweetheart neckline to transition into beautiful gold chiffon that draped itself over her shapely hips and long legs. The criss-cross of golden chiffon across the sequins balanced the overall gracefulness of the dress and even Ryzea had to admit that she looked good tonight. Ever present were the weighty diamond chandelier earrings and comforting, white, satin gloves. Thank god, Constantine had allowed her to wear her hair down, luscious and beautiful, completely free of any hair accessories. If Ryzea had any sort of vanity, it would be her well-maintained hair.

As the man began to speak again, Ryzea forced herself to relax. Tonight it was Constantine's job to install the cameras. All she had to do was act natural and make sure to give Constantine enough of a time frame to complete the task.

"…and it makes me feel lost, sort of, if you know what I mean." He was saying as she tuned back in, "I'm sorry. You must think I'm weird for saying something like that."

Having no idea what he was talking about, Zea only smiled warmly, "Of course not. I think your perspective is fascinating, to say the least."

He gave her an odd look and she wondered if she'd laid on the flattery a bit thick. Suddenly, she felt her clutch vibrate in her hand and politely excused herself away from the balcony and the strange man. She was struck by the strangest feeling that she had seen him before, knew him somehow, but she couldn't , for the life of her, remember where or how. It was like a peculiar nag at the back of her meticulously trained brain.

Ryzea shook the feeling away as she made her way to the restroom, which was as always, filled with exceptionally well-dressed women. Locking herself in the cubicle closest to the door, Zea opened her clutch to palm into her mission phone. There was a single message:

Distract Weis. NW – up.

Zea cursed silently as she quickly put her phone away, almost smashing the sleek, polished door of the bathroom stall into a women's face in her hurry to get out. Why was it that she couldn't get a break from the hardest jobs, just once? Constantine must have run into a stitch if she was texting Zea during her part of the mission. And what the hell was Philippe Weis doing in the upper northwest corner? Weren't those the private sectors? How was she supposed to validate her presence in the private wings of Philippe Weis's house?

Ryzea forced her feet to slow down and walk normally, her mind working furiously to come up with a plan. What sort of trouble had Constantine run into?

As she encountered no one in the upstairs hallway, Ryzea became aware of the unusual silence that deafened the entire top floor. It was supposed to be that way, right, with everyone chatting leisurely downstairs? Checking her phone with a flick of the eyes, Ryzea watched the red dot that was Philippe Weis enter one of the larger rooms in the northwest corner. At least, Raymond had been able to set a tracking device on the man.

With her heart in her throat, Ryzea approached the door quickly and swung it open, preparing for the worst.

"-do you think you're doing with him, Sylvia?"

A small petite figure sat on the couch, her shoulders straight and her hands set primly in her lap as she stared defiantly back at her father. Philippe Weis stood in front of his beautiful daughter with the sternest expression on his face.

"I'm just curious that's all, I-" Sylvia Wei's doe-like eyes fastened on the newcomer with a sharp interest.

Ryzea felt her cheeks flame as she realized she'd just interrupted a potentially, dangerous interaction. It seemed Philippe was scolding his daughter and that was not something Zea wanted to get in the middle of. She licked her lips and put on an embarrassed look.

"Oh, Mr. Weis!" Zea held her clutch with both trembling hands, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I have an urgent matter to discuss with you and I was told you would be here."

She'd thrown herself out a line and hope to god it wouldn't come down to him asking about the urgent matter. She had no idea what she was going to say if it came to that.

Philippe Weis was not a stupid man and suspicion was evident all over his handsome face. Ryzea held her breath as she watched his eyes narrow. Her heart caught in her throat as her TimeKeeper instincts caught sight of the rustle in the balcony drapes. Constantine was inside this very room! Composing her face to disguise the surprise, Zea waited for whatever would happen next.

Sylvia stood abruptly, "It's quite alright. We were done here_ anyway_._"_

"Do not walk away from me, young lady." Philippe said angrily, "Sylvia!"

Sylvia walked out with her head held high and her Marios Schwabb dress floating around her knees. The perfect picture of a dignified lady. Ryzea couldn't help but admire, just a little bit, the gall the young woman had to walk out on her own father.

Philippe sighed, frustrated, and she attempted to alleviate the awkward situation.

"Mr. Weis?" she was desperate to get him out of the room before he could notice the drapes fidgeting in the moonlight.

She wished fervently that Constantine would just stay still!

"Oh yes, Mrs. Sterling." Philippe straightened his tie and stood up tall, "Did you need something from me, dear?"

Ack, what was she supposed to say now?

"Yes, um," Zea cursed her non-existent cleverness, "It's important, you see, someone seems to have um, taken our car."

Ohmygod. Ryzea mentally kicked herself as she realized she'd just put herself in other lying pit. Their car was right outside the gates, with all the other guests' cars!

"What do you mean?" Philippe looked shocked.

"Please, come quickly." Ryzea backed out of the room hurriedly, making sure Philippe was following her, "I was just going out to fetch another jacket, but our car seemed to have disappeared. Mr. Philippe, someone's stolen our car."

Her voice was high-pitched with nervous tension as she drew nearer to the stairs. A bit of relief eased the tension off her shoulders at getting Philippe out of Constantine's immediate vicinity, but now how was she supposed to get herself out of this mess?

Raymond was at the foot of the stairs, a smooth expression on his face. She tried to convey with her eyes at the sticky situation she'd just created for herself.

"Leah, sweetheart." Raymond took her arm just as she descended the last step in her treacherous high heels, "It seems our car's gone missing."

She could've fainted from relief. Raymond's blue eyes were secretive and hard as his lips turned down in a frown.

"I was just coming to tell you, love." Ryzea placed a gloved hand on Philippe's arm, "I've informed Mr. Weis about our unfortunate predicament."

She tried to play the part of the concerned, yet shallow wife.

"It's alright, dear." Raymond's fingers were tight around her forearm as he pulled her to his side.

Philippe looked genuinely confused, "My sincerest apologies, Mr. Sterling. My men will be right on it."

"It's fine, really." Raymond waved his hand generically, "I'll just have Matthew bring the other car around."

Raymond had effectively cut off Mr. Philippe from investigating the matter further and exposing their collaborated lie. Ryzea let herself relax; the crisis had passed and Constantine was safe.

"Are you certain?" Philippe waved away his swarm of bodyguards, "I can easily track down this miscreant."

Raymond shook his head, smiling warmly, "I wouldn't want to create such a fuss over one car. We'll let the TimeKeepers deal with the mundane."

"Very well, then." Philippe nodded formally, "My apologies again, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling."

Afterwards, Raymond had them leave immediately. To stay would be to draw more attention to themselves. Matthew was waiting out front with another of Mr. Hamilton's sleek cars. Constantine sat grinning in the back.

"Nice save, Zea." Constantine scooted over as Ryzea slid into the car, the leather even through the material of her sheer dress.

"That was too close." Ryzea shook her head, smiling, "How did you..?"

"I texted Raymond as soon as you told Philippe." Constantine winked.

Raymond sat immobile in the front seat, "Close call, Connie."

"Sorry." Constantine shrugged, "I didn't have a tracker set on his daughter, so I didn't see her coming."

"Did you at least get all the cameras up?" Ryzea crossed her legs, settling into the comfortable relief after a completed mission.

"Yup." The other woman flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder, "And I am _so_ not doing it again. I swear I almost broke my ankle, twice! It's your turn next time, Ray."

Raymond remained silent and Constantine rolled her eyes, something lost in the effect of the dark night.

Ryzea felt just a small hint of a smile grace her face. She was starting to realize that this team wasn't so bad after all. Maybe, just for tonight, she could pretend that she was in New Greenwich of her own free will. There was no such thing as murder, or pain, or lies.

Life could be peaceful.

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><p><strong>Yay! Please R&amp;R! :)<strong>


	10. Rebel

**Here you go, as promised. It's a little short, but I decided to cut the chapter in half because I know you guys were waiting a long time. :)**

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><p>Chapter 10<p>

Everyone was gathered in the Sterling's condo, barely a month since they'd first been introduced to each other. And no closer to catching the murderer than they were then.

Ryzea flipped through the pages of her ever-fattening case file with frustration. It was an early Monday morning, the sun shining brilliantly into the luxurious space of the living room.

Brian sat on the couch, a sleek laptop propped open on his lap. Distorted images reflected off his glasses from the computer screen as he continued to review yesterday's footage from all of their microcams. Not that it would yield any type of helpful information. It was as if the murderer had disappeared the moment the undercover TimeKeepers had arrived in New Greenwich.

Morale this morning was lower than low and everyone was frustrated by the significant lack of progress. Raymond's face was hard and brooding as he stood by the smartboard, panning through various images and documents in the case file. Thomas, being his usual lazy self, had gone back to sleep on the couch, his case file strewn all over the coffee table. Sitting in front of the kitchen counter, Alex hummed to himself quietly as he cleaned his many guns and weapons he'd laid out carefully on the polished countertop. Gus was bent over the conference table, diligently mapping out the whole of New Greenwich on a digital pad. Even Ian was working away on his laptop next to Gus, although she had no idea what he was working on.

The only one who seemed unaffected by the gloom was Constantine, who stood at Raymond's shoulder with a light smile on her face.

Irritation picked at her skin like flies as she put down her case file, stretching from her seat on the couch.

"I'm hungry." Ryzea stood, drawing the attention of all the working agents, "Do we have any of that spaghetti carbonara left from last night?"

"Sorry." Alex shook his head with a sheepish grin.

She could feel Raymond's disapproving look searing into her back. Honestly, she could care less at that moment; she was tired of working towards nothing. They were getting nowhere!

"I guess I'll just go downstairs then." Ryzea ignored Raymond's glare as she wrenched open the bedroom doors, "Do you think they serve lunch this early?"

Constantine shrugged, "Probably not."

Everyone watched her disappear into the walk-in closet. Zea grabbed the first plastic-covered hanger she saw and went into the bathroom to change. She knew she was being petty and unreasonable, but she was just so _done_. No matter how long they sat discussing the stupid case file, the answers just wouldn't come. They had found nothing, gained nothing, and done nothing.

Ryzea walked back into the room in a black and white, spaghetti strap, sweetheart neckline, layer-sheath skirted cocktail dress. The dress ended mid-thigh, leaving her no cover to keep a gun holstered to her thigh. Biting her lip in frustration, Zea ducked back into the room, grabbing a random black clutch to dump her essentials in. Nobody spoke as she walked back into the room, black diamonds tinkling from her ears once again and a frown on her face.

They all waited with baited breath as Zea strapped on a pair of white, slouch scrunch, high heel, ankle boots. Why the hell did society see the need to dress up just to go out for a bite? She huffed indignantly, going for the closed door.

"Wash." Raymond's voice was cold and threatening, whipping through the silence.

"If you need me, you know how to find me." Zea waved her clutch that rattled with the weight of her phone for emphasis, slamming the door behind her.

When she entered the lobby, she ordered the valet to bring the newest car out front. Keeping a sweet smile on her face, she thanked the young man and tipped him with a few minutes.

Pealing out of the parking lot in her second favorite Renilizza Vite 600 (they'd had to sell the Renilizza Vite 34G to keep up appearances with that whole "stolen" fiasco), Ryzea contemplated where to go. She just wanted to get out for a while, think and maybe do a little recon to bring information back or something. That is, if she wasn't fired.

Raymond Leon must be furious right about now.

Zea grinned to herself, reveling in the accomplishment of being able to piss off the ice-cold bastard. He was always getting on her nerves anyway.

Looking for place to eat lunch was actually harder than she ever thought it would be. She followed the map that Gus and Constantine had uploaded onto her touch-screen and arrived at a luxurious glass building that looked rich. She only hoped their food would be good too.

Trying to convince herself that she belonged, she walked in hoping she looked like she owned the place. She was settled at a pristine, white table by one of the ceiling-to-floor windows. She hadn't even ordered yet, when her tracking skills noticed a man walk through the door in her direction.

"Good morning, Mrs. Sterling." The strange man from yesterday smiled politely as he came to a stop beside her table.

Surprised, Zea stretched her face into a bewildered smile, "Oh, good morning." As an afterthought, she added, "Would you like to join me for breakfast?"

For a moment, she wondered if it was socially inappropriate to invite a stranger, much less a man, to breakfast. Oh hell, she'd already said it anyway and he was accepting graciously.

"Thank you, I haven't had my own meal yet." The man slid into the booth across from her, straightening his black tie, "Last night, I didn't have the opportunity to introduce myself. Will Salas, pleasure to meet you."

Ryzea choked on her water as he extended his hand. Will Salas! Rachel's son, of course! No wonder he looked so familiar. With a panicked twinge, she coughed several times, hiding her shock and wondering if he recognized her. Probably not; she hadn't seen him since…well, since Kiernan died.

Bitter feelings stabbed at her heart as Will frowned, concerned, "Are you alright?"

She coughed again, "Yes, sorry. Just went down the wrong pipe, I guess."

Mr. Salas smiled charmingly and she could see the bit of Rachel's spirit in him. When she had been younger and just fresh on the streets of Dayton, she'd met Rachel Salas, who became somewhat of an older sister to her during that time. Ryzea fought the wave of nausea that threatened to consume her as she remembered that the kind-hearted woman had timed out on her fiftieth birthday, only half a year ago. Rachel Salas was one of the few people that Ryzea held dear in her heart, and her untimely death had only strengthened the iron barriers around her own heart. She'd already learned from her past that everyone she loved eventually died and left her alone. Forever was a foreign concept in the desperate poverty of Dayton.

So what was Will Salas doing in New Greenwich?

"It's my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Will." She coughed politely again, taking his hand firmly for a shake.

They chatted amicably for a while about trivial things; the weather, the food, the décor. All things that she could care less about. As she supplied generic answers, just enough to keep the conversation going, she studied the grown man before her. The last time she had seen Will Salas, the clock on his arm still wasn't moving. She hadn't really known him then, only that he was Rachel's most treasured person in the world. The way she talked about him, it was as if she saw nothing but him. If she was being truthful to herself, she'd respected him as a girl because he made Rachel Salas happy. But she wasn't keen on being truthful this morning, so with her naturally paranoid nature, she questioned everything about his presence. Was it really just coincidence that they'd met last night or he'd walked into the exact same place in which she was having her breakfast?

"So how is it that you know Mr. Weis?" Ryzea crossed her legs under the table as Will took a sip of water.

Will's eyes – so like Rachel's – darkened imperceptibly, "I'm working as one of his accountants. Nothing impressive, really."

She raised her eyebrows, "I'm sure you're used to working with impossible numbers in the case of Philippe Weis."

Will laughed, "The man does have copious amounts of Time. Not unlike your husband, I'm sure."

The underhanded mention of wealth sparked suspicion in her mind. What did Will know about the Sterlings? Was he suspicious of them? He was from Dayton, surely he recognized the notorious TimeKeeper Leon.

"Well, Reid's always been the overachieving sort." Zea tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "It's one of the reasons why I fell in love with him in the first place."

She added the last bit to reinsert and assure the lie, inwardly scoffing. It was actually one of the things about him that irked her the most. She couldn't stand how he always had to go above and beyond, doing extra work for little more than nothing. It wasn't like TimeKeepers were paid anything special. They were given just enough to survive. Her clutch began vibrating and she just barely refrained from reaching towards it.

"Oh yes, congratulations." Will motioned towards the sparkling, diamond ring, "You two really are the perfect couple."

She only just managed to avoid choking on her water again, dropping her hand under the table so she wouldn't have to see the "wedding ring". If by perfect couple, he meant just barely maintaining enough self-control to avoid shooting each other, then he was dead on.

"Thank you." She managed to blush despite the irony, smiling shyly.

"Well, when I'm back from the restroom, perhaps you'll let me pay the tab." Will smiled charmingly as he rose from his seat, "Consider it my gift to you for being such wonderful company."

She laughed, "We'll see."

After he disappeared around the corner, Zea finally gave in to the insistent vibration from her clutch. She picked up the phone.

She snapped, "What?"

"Raymond sent Ian to collect you." Constantine's cheerful voice sounded from the other end, "Are you done with breakfast yet?"

"Lunch, actually." Ryzea pinched the bridge of her nose and fought the urge to punch something, "And you can tell TimeKeeper Leon to kindly fuck off. I don't need someone to pick me up. I'm not a child, for god's sake."

"Language." Constantine chided light-heartedly, "And tell him yourself, he's right here."

A scuffle and then, "Washlington."

A burst of irritation came upon hearing his smooth voice and naturally, she lost her bit of carefully maintained self-control.

"Fuck off." She hung up.

Satisfied with her ability to rebel against superiority, she finally sunk into uncertainty. She knew what she was doing was immature and most certainly out of her character, but she just couldn't help it! Raymond Leon really did bring out the worst in her.


	11. Rebel II

**I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in a while. I know this is a really short chapter but I promise I'll make it up to you guys. Thankyou soooo much for sticking with me all the way here.**

**Btw, did anybody watch the Hunger Games last week? Let me just say...OHMYFREAKINGGOD.**

**It was so amazing. **

**Thanks for reading!**

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><p>Chapter 11<p>

The moment she returned the mission phone back to her clutch, Ian stepped through the glass doors, looking confident and striking as always. She mused for those few moment before he saw, sinking just a little lower at her table, watching him curiously. There wasn't much she knew about her fellow TimeKeeper; just that he was quiet and rarely ever asked questions. And yet, she couldn't shake that melancholy feeling that hung around him like the thinnest veil.

In the next moment, he turned and they locked gazes. His eyes gave nothing away and she couldn't help but frown in irritation. Standing as he approached her, she rolled her eyes.

"I don't need looking after." Ryzea muttered.

Ian's face was carefully blank as he gestured towards the front door, "You're husband tends to worry when you're alone."

From his lack of expression, she couldn't discern whether or not he was being sarcastic. She followed him grumpily, glancing back once to wonder if she should wait to tell Will that she was leaving. But she could see no choice but to follow Ian back to the hotel. She couldn't run away from her problems this time. She'd fucked up pretty bad and she just knew Raymond would blame it on her "lack" of experience and tact. He was always railing on her for the littlest mistakes. She didn't understand why he was so harsh. He never yelled at the others when they fumbled, just a cold, toneless tongue-lashing.

It was always that way. She worked the hardest and frankly, she thought she was the most dedicated in her entire district. But she had never been able to say what she really wanted in his presence. Raymond knew too much, about where she was from and the truth about her past. And if she was being truthful and reasonable, she would have admitted that she respected him, his cold, detached way of doing things efficiently. Everything about him was ice-cold, razor-sharp edges. His cunning blue eyes barely masked the brutality of weathered years that lurked behind his irises. She knew he'd been a TimeKeeper for a long time, one of older ones and perhaps one of the best.

It had been a stupid move to walk out on the mission.

And there was someone out there still murdering innocent people. It didn't matter how greedy, ignorant, or prodigal they were. They still deserved a life.

Ryzea signed in resignation as Ian started the car. In her anger that Raymond once again had a hold on her, had bested her once again, she lashed out at the only person she could at that moment.

"You just do whatever he tells you to, don't you?" Zea raked her fingers through her hair furiously, "Do you even have a will of your own?"

She knew she was being obnoxiously cruel and careless, goading her own partner, but she couldn't help it. She was infuriated that Raymond Leon had once again won the spat.

Why did everything, _everything, _always turn out in his favor?


	12. One of Ours: Part I

**It has seriously been so long since I last updated. I am so so so so sorry for the long wait. I've just been soo busy and I lost inspiration a little but I didn't want to let you guys down and I got a few reviews urging me to continue so here I am.**

**This is kind of short because I'm grounded and not supposed to be on the computer so I tried to hash out this chapter.**

**Please R&R! Thank you so much for staying with me and supporting me. I love all you lovely readers.**

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><p>Chapter 12<p>

Ryzea was not one to sulk, but sulk she did for the rest of the afternoon.

She had been expecting a tongue-lashing; in fact, she had been looking forward to one. A few cold words harshly exchanged, slammed doors, and furious expressions later she could've just gone back to hating him – and deep down, admiring and respecting him.

But Raymond didn't even glance her way, and it was worse than him yelling at her. She didn't know what it was about him, but everything he did slighted her and she was furious at herself – and at him – for it.

It wasn't long before Ian was sent out on another errand and the condo was quiet, all except for the rustling of papers and the intense atmosphere of analyzing agents. She sat grumpily on the couch, staring moodily at the case file open in front of her on the coffee table. Everyone was working just as hard and they really were getting nowhere. They didn't know when, where, or who the serial killer would strike at next. It could be seconds, minutes, days, weeks, months before anything came up again. They needed a new strategy, a different way of looking at things.

She got up from the sofa and approached the smartboard, fingers zipping over the smooth surface as she flicked over a bunch of photos, studying a few of them more closely. They were gruesome and unwanted, but she had to look at every single detail. She opened the most recent case file, Sarah Drenzick's crime scene photos.

Just as she was just puzzling over a small mark above the woman's exposed and bloody hipbone, a shrill sound broke through the silence, startling everybody out of their hyper-concentration mode.

Raymond snatched up his phone, his face impassive. The only tell-tale sign that he was irritated came from the twitching muscle in his hard-set jaw. They all watched as his face morphed into one of pale and grave concern. She began to shift her weight to her other leg, apprehensive about what could've happened. Was it another attack? Were they too late already.

He turned away from the rest of them, and murmured a few things into the cell phone. Ryzea glanced at Constantine, but the other female TimeKeeper just shrugged. When he hung up, everyone waited with baited breath for his next words.

"Downtenn Plaza." Raymond's voice cut sharply into the air, dark and undecipherable, "We've got another victim."

Ryzea almost crashed into the table with dread. No, not another one. And this time, she would be on the scene.

"Who is it?" Constantine's eyebrows were drawn with worry as she began to pack quickly.

"It's Greenly."

Everyone froze for a moment, hardly daring to believe the name that had fallen from his lips.

"Greenly? As in…TimeKeeper Greenly?" Ryzea spit out in horror.

Hadn't she just seen him a couple of hours ago? They'd all seen him a couple of hours again. He'd driven her back? What the hell?

Everyone rushed out of the condo at once, streaming for separate cars as Raymond yelled to each of the Timekeepers where to meet in as fast a time as possible. She ended up in the same car as Gus, who pealed out of the valet parking lot with a frightened face.

The ride there was the most horrible ride of her life. Gus was equally terrified and drove like the craziest maniac, swerving through traffic and cutting hairpin turns and running red lights. She was sure that if they survived this, their hazardous driving would raise questions and probably expose their true identity and purpose. But for now, the only thing that mattered was that one of their own had been targeted.

Her palms were sweaty as the car came to a screeching halt; already there was caution tape around the scene and various government vehicles parked around the site. People were crowding around, simultaneously being questioned or being herded back. She tried to smooth down her hair, hoping that nobody would notice her getting out of the car with someone who wasn't her "husband". Raymond latched onto her hand as soon as she reached her side – to maintain their cover. She wasn't sure what their story would be for explaining their presence here, but they had to acquire control of the situation. If the authorities found out who Ian really was, the whole operation would be in the wind.

"We were out on a walk. We're bottlenecking." Raymond whispered as he pulled her close for a kiss on the cheek. Then he spoke into the earpiece that he'd handed out to everyone beforehand, "Everyone, scatter. Blend in to the crowd."

He approached one of the city guards that was guarding the crime scene, his face a mask of concern.

"Excuse me, sir." Raymond clutched her hand in a deathly grip, "I believe we were called here for an emergency - something about one of our chauffeurs?"

Ryzea tried to plaster a gentle smile on her face and peer from the back of her head to get a look at the crime scene at the same time. She strained for a look, everything, anything to assure here that they'd gotten the wrong person.

The city guard lowered his clipboard, doing a double-take as he took in the couple standing before him.

"Mr. Sterling, right this way. We're very sorry that we had to interrupt your afternoon with this awful news." The guard lead them to duck under the caution tape, "But it seems one of your chauffeurs, Mr. Hansen, became a victim of our latest notorious criminal."

They reached the shady spot, where many emergency personnel blocked the actual body from public view; white gloved hands reaching and measuring and analyzing. The scent of blood and flesh reached her nose and Ryzea almost gagged.

"A pedestrian found him here about 30 minutes ago. The crime scene's untouched." The guard continued to explain as they stood off a little to the side, "Can you explain his whereabouts this afternoon?"

She took the lead, tugging a little on Raymond's hand, "Well, I was missing a few things for afternoon tea with one of our friends and I sent Mr. Hansen out to get them. I thought he was just being lazy, I had no idea he had been…"

Ryzea trailed off dramatically, voice hitching as she buried her face in Raymond's sleeve. She didn't have to pretend for the tears to come and the burning in her throat to actual cut off her speech.

*_To be continued..._

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><p><strong>Please don't forget to review.<strong>


	13. One of Ours: Part II

**So this is really short. I'm in finals week and I just happened to be able to squeeze some time in. But yeah, it's getting really hard to continue writing. I don't have any motivation. But I'm trying :)**

**Thanks for all the support.**

**Please R&R!**

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><p>The city guard looked sympathetic and she almost wished he wasn't there. She wished she wasn't here and that this wasn't happening. Another person she knew – gone.<p>

Who would be next?

"Mr. Sterling, may I ask you to step this way. We just need to you to identify the body and sign off on the some of the items we've identified as belongings." The guard handed Raymond the clipboard.

Raymond detached himself from her, patting her hand apathetically, before the following the guard in the direction of blood and death. Having been trained as a TimeKeeper, Ryzea was used to the horrors of crime, but this….this was different. Constance came up behind her and played on as the concerned best friend. Her eyes were hard and glassy and her face was a pale, milky complexion.

"What are they saying?" Zea raised her head after gracefully wiping away the few tears she'd shed, "Have you- Have you seen the body?"

Constance shook her head, "No, but I'm sure we'll be given the case file soon. We should get out of here; this is something for Raymond to handle."

She glanced over at the crowd of white examiners bent over the place she was sure the body was. Raymond remained grim and stoic in the presence of the city's personnel, signing places on the sheet of paper that the city guard pointed too. She wondered how they would handle this one. Maybe they would be taken off the case – they had, after all, failed to prevent another murder.

And one of their own had paid the price.

Her head was spinning and her throat constricted as the sun beat down on their heavy shoulders. Constance kept a firm, but gentle hand on her shoulder, signaling their departure. Onlookers would see poor, distraught Mrs. Sterling being led away by her faithful sister-in-law as her husband dealt with the present tragedy.

But in the hardened hearts of each disguised Time Keeper, a seed of revenge had been planted.

Just as she was about to turn away, the curtain of white clothed backs parted for the merest of seconds. And what she saw made her blood run ice-cold.

It was like her childhood nightmare all over again. The one that plagued her every night until she awoke drenched in cold sweat and dead heartbeats. She felt like her own breath was choking her as her eyesight followed the bloodily disfigured arm in sight. The skin was mangled beyond recognition and three of the dirty fingers were disjointed into broken angles. Rivulets of dried blood snaked down and around the wrist, all pointing towards the dreaded numbers.

0000:00:0:00:00:00

Her mouth was dry with dread and horror as her eyes finally reached the most mangled part of the arm. The murderer had taken some kind of sharp object to the skin and carved deep into the tissue, as if desperate to make his point. The words screamed blood:

_For you_


	14. Suspect

**Ohmygosh, I'm so sorry this took way too long to get updated. I've just been really lazy and I kind of forgot where I was going with this. But I think I've got most of my plot together again. I'm still unsure where this is going to go because I forgot what I originally planned. But yeah, I'm so sorry for the wait and thank you so much for still sticking with me you guys. **

**I feel a little bit like this chapter wasn't as well written. But I wasn't sure how to do that without repeating myself sometimes. It's a lot of just dialogue. I'M SORRY.**

**Anyway, I hope you guys are satisfied with this. I'll try to get another chapter up soon.**

**Don't forget to R&R!**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 13<span>**

_The world was a cage of gray._

_The musky scent of rotting flesh choked through her throat._

_Her skin was alive and crawling with ice-cold dread._

_She turned her head and suddenly she was in the little apartment room again, opening the door. She had no control over her limbs as the white rectangle of wood swung open. She didn't want to see what was on the other side. She'd seen it too many times._

_The lights were on, illuminating the unkempt bed in the middle of the room._

_Only this time, it was different._

_The walls were white, the floors were white, everything was white - just like the sheets, still and cold as fog. She took a step forward, crossing the threshold into her nightmare. She looked down with wide, frightened eyes. A muddy footprint was smeared across the immaculate white fabric. The mud caked each fiber of the carpet, clinging to it with an ugly vengeance._

_And then the mud became blood and rose up to swallow her. It was thick and cold and disgustingly red. It was in her mouth, her nose, her eyes. It was everywhere and she was drowning in it. Terror seized her body as she fought against the tide of heavy blood._

_And then she hit the surface hard, pain echoing through every bone in her body. Her clothes and hair were caked with blood. She knelt on cement and tried frantically to get it off, but it stuck underneath her fingernails. She cried and cried and cried, the tears making rivulets of salt through the blood on her face._

_An elongated mirror appeared in front of her and she screamed, slamming her palms against the cold, unyielding surface. She didn't dare look at herself in the mirror, her hands shaking as she tried to regain composure. The glass broke, the shards piercing her skin as she fell through into a void of black._

_And as she fell, she glimpsed the faces: the shadowy silhouette of her father's thin lips, the blurry recreation of her mother's slender nose, the perfect cut of Keirnan's jagged blonde hair, the calm midnight sky of Ian's eyes - the faces came faster now, too blurred to be recognized._

_She screamed, hurtling through nothing towards certain death._

_Alone._

Ryzea bolted upright, her eyes wide open as she stared at the opposite wall. The scream caught in her throat, echoing in her mind. She gasped for air, clutching the sweat-soaked sheets in a death grip.

It took a long time for the terror and despair to receded back into its little black hole. She found that tears had dried on her cheeks and her throat was raw and pained. She could still feel the blood caked on her own skin.

It took her a few more minutes to notice the tall, lanky figure in the doorway of the bedroom. She threw back the bed sheets, relishing the cool air that drifted in through the open window and chilled the sweat on her skin. Zea sighed, brushing past Raymond to get to the kitchen. The silence hung heavy in the air as she went around the kitchen, making herself a cup of instant coffee. She could almost feel his eyes scrutinizing her every move. Her own fingers were still shaking.

"Did I wake you?" She asked quietly, keeping her back to him, watching the water slowly drip into the coffee maker.

His voice was rough and just as quiet. "No. I was already awake."

"Oh."

She watched a droplet of water slowly roll down the side of the container. It glistened and winked with the light. Just like a tear. Zea swallowed harshly, rubbing her face in an effort to scrub away the feel of dried tears. When the coffee finished, she held the mug in her hands tightly, keeping her gaze on the floor as she turned around to go back to the bedroom. She froze when she felt the warmth of his fingers on her bare shoulder, halting her in her movements. Her skin was cold under his touch.

"Are you all right?"

Zea forced herself to look up into his face. His hair was mussed, like he'd just woken up. Her eyes met his, and a chill shot down her spine. His eyes were brilliant in the kitchen lights - and concerned. For a fleeting moment, she thought he looked just as ragged as she felt. They hadn't talked at all after Ian's death a week ago. But it had had a profound effect on every single member of their team. His death hung over their shoulders like a shroud of guilt. Why hadn't they tried harder? Why hadn't they been paying attention to the signs? Ian was dead because of their lack of progress. And Zea could see that Raymond took it all just a bit harder. He was the leader. He was responsible for every TimeKeeper in this operation. And in a twisted sense, he was responsible for Ian's death.

Her eyes flickered to the green digits that glowed on the inside of his arm.

0075:10:5:03:21:04

75 years, 10 months, 5 days, 3 hours, 21 minutes, and 4 seconds. It all seemed like so much time. She resisted looking at her own clock. It was an impulse - an impulse everyone in Dayton developed from an early age of constant starvation and poverty.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She managed to say.

The dream was still fresh and vivid in her mind - the same one she'd been having every night the past week. Every night, she'd wake up in a cold sweat, enveloped in the same kind of fear and dread. And every night, she'd get out of bed and make herself coffee to wash away the lingering cold. And every night, Raymond was awake to witness this haphazard routine. She sometimes suspected that he barely slept at all.

She moved then, his hand slipping from her shoulder and leaving it colder than before. Instead of going back to bed though, she opted to sit on the couch, pushing the blankets to the floor to make more room. Raymond turned off the kitchen lights, plunging the entire condo into darkness once again. She stared blankly at the wall across from her, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness of the room. He came to sit down next to her. She didn't know when she started talking, but the words spilled from her mouth uncontrollably, swallowed by the dark of the room.

"I see them all the time, you know. The faces of all those people. My nightmares are usually about them. There's so many of them. Growing up in Dayton, it's usually not an uncommon sight. People die everyday. And then when I came here, it was almost as if it was a different world. These people aren't used to death. I don't even think they know what timing out is. We've been here for more than a month, and we've gotten nowhere. And now -" She choked on her words, "-now Ian's dead. And the killer is still at large."

She didn't know why she was saying these things - and to Raymond, of all people - but she said them anyway and waited for his response. He was silent for a long time, so long that she could eventually hear her heart beat in her ears. She sipped at her coffee. When he finally did speak, his voice startled her.

"It's part of what we do. In this line of work, it's part of our life to remember those faces. Once they're dead, their whole existence is wiped from the face of the earth. We're the only ones who are capable of remembering. They remind us of the importance of what we do. We remember them so that we can prevent others from becoming like them." His voice was hesitant, almost like a whisper. "New Greenwich does not experience death like Dayton does. Timing out is a foreign concept to them. And that is why we are here. Someone is making death known to these people, and he needs to be stopped."

Zea found herself voicing the ultimate question. "How?"

His shoulder brushed against hers as he answered. "By doing what we do best."

"And what's that?" She asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"Keeping time."

She met his gaze then and it was fierce and definitive. And that was when she knew that Raymond Leon would stop at nothing to complete Operation Hedd. Zea licked her lips and nodded.

"Might as well get started then." She said, placing her coffee mug on the table as she stood up.

Raymond twisted around as she walked around to the back of the couch. "What are you doing?"

"We're not going to catch the bastard by sitting around and talking." She palmed into the smart board, bringing up the case files on the transparent glass screen. "I saw something earlier, before…"

Ryzea pulled up the photos from Sarah Drenzick's case file. Tilting her head to the right, she expanded the one photo of her hipbone again, just like last time.

"Right here, I thought I saw…" She squinted a little against the bright glow of the screen. "It's really small."

Raymond came up next to her as she zoomed in. She no longer had to squint when he turned on the lights in the room.

"Look at this." She pointed to the small, black mark just on the edge of the laceration. "At first, I thought it was a tattoo, but it's not. It's like an indentation in her skin."

A tiny ring of black was imprinted on the skin, no bigger than a quarter inch in length.

"There's something else." Raymond leaned in close to the screen and she watched him examine it closely. "Right here." He pointed to just below the black circle. "It's a black line."

**O**

She looked at it quizzically, turning her head every which way. She couldn't understand what it was.

"It's so small, I'm not surprised nobody else caught it before." She mused. "If it's not a tattoo, though, then what is it?"

Raymond looked thoughtful. "Have you found anything else like this in any of the other cases?"

She shrugged. "I didn't look. Hers was the first file I pulled up."

The mark was so out of place on her body that it couldn't be natural. It definitely wasn't a birth mark, so then the question was, how did it get there?

"Let's check the other photos. You take the first five, I'll take the last five." His began tapping the screen, opening case files and crime scene photos.

She stood in front of the other half of the board, opening up the first few case files. Pulling images from Carrera Willis's files, she combed through each image meticulously, forcing herself to look past the blood and mangled skin. And then, there, in an image of a stab wound just underneath her collarbone, there was another black mark, just as tiny.

"Here." She said hurriedly, zooming in on the picture.

Raymond looked over as she pointed to the marking.

"It looks like….a line." He sounded perplexed, zooming in even more on the picture. "With the another line under it."

**I**

"So we have a circle and a line. Both with shorter lines underneath it." She didn't understand the significance of either. "Carrera Willis and Sarah Drenzick have no known relations at all. It's highly unlikely that they did it to themselves. I think someone drew the markings posthumously."

"How do you know?" Raymond asked.

"Look." Zea only had half an idea in her mind, but it made sense with what she was seeing. "Each marking as a clear area of smooth skin around it. Almost as if someone wiped it clean."

"You're right. And if that's the case, then the unsub made those markings on his victims. The question is: Why?"

She turned to him. "Did you find anything in those cases?"

"Not yet." He looked frustrated as he turned back to his pictures. "This is William Julierre's case file. Most of the immediate pictures were taken of his back, just before they moved him. There's only a few pictures of his front side."

Her eyes scanned over each image as Raymond flicked through them. They were both silent for a moment, each utilizing their perceptive skills in studying each pixel of the picture. In the second to last picture - a picture of a wound to his head - Zea's eyes caught another strange marking.

"There!" She said quickly, stopping Raymond for flipping to the next image. "I almost didn't catch it because it's hidden by hair. Right there, behind the ear."

Raymond zoomed in; the marking was blurry, but still simple enough to get the gist of it.

**V**

This got them both excited enough to quickly go through the other case files. Raking each image from top to bottom, looking for some kind of marking similar to those that they had found in those three files. An hour went by before Raymond took a break to call the other team members. When he did, Zea looked out the window to realize that it was already early morning. They'd spent the last few hours on this new lead, to the point where both had been oblivious of the passing time. She hadn't even realized it was daylight creeping in through the glass windows. Yawning, she blinked a few times, her eyes aching from staring at the images.

They ate a hurried breakfast of eggs and poorly cooked pancakes. She burned her tongue twice, so eager was she to get back to the evidence they had uncovered. Constantine arrived with Gus in tow, both of them already having eaten breakfast. Thomas came a little bit after, just before Alex and Brian arrived. All the team members were present in the condo, each of them looking at the divided case files.

It was only another hour later that they were all gathered in front of the smartboard, 10 similar markings taken from an image in each victim's case file.

**I** **Y** **L** **E H M W V O**

"They're letters." Constantine said, wonderingly. "It's a message. The unsub wrote a message."

"For who?" Gus looked disturbed. "And what does it even mean? It just looks like a jumble."

Raymond was the one who said, "For us."

Ryzea had changed into day clothes, tugging her fingers through her knotted hair. "It's an anagram."

"But nobody knows we're here." Gus said.

"It's a general message." Raymond clarified. "But we're the only ones who'll understand it. Because we're the ones trying to stop him."

"It's a classic serial killer tactic." Constantine's lips formed a tight, thin line. "He likes attention. This is all a game to him. He's playing with us, giving us something like a puzzle."

"But what's he trying to tell us? What's the point?" Gus pointed out.

"We're still missing a marking from a victim." Ryzea reminded them. "We couldn't find anything of the sort in any of the images from Greta Reese's case."

"Maybe we missed it." Alex shrugged.

"Or maybe the absence of a marking is significant. Maybe something was different about Greta Reese." Raymond turned back to the screen, tapping a couple of different files. "She was his second victim."

"But there's nothing to suggest that she was any different from Willis or Withers or any of the other female victims. Not even the male victims. She had the same injuries and afflictions. There's nothing except that she doesn't have a mark." Constantine stood with Reese's file open in her hands.

"I think I found something." Brian interrupted them, shooting from his seat on the couch, laptop in hand.

Everyone immediately crowded around him as he executed a few keystrokes.

"What is it, Proctor?" Raymond stood just behind the man's shoulder, glancing at the screen.

"I was looking through the hours of video recordings from each of the case files." Brain showed the multiple screens that were routed back to his computer. "I didn't think anything of it before, but there's one person who shows up in every single one of them."

"Who?" Ryzea grew at once alarmed and excited at the prospect of finally getting a lead on a suspect.

"Here." Brian pointed to the first screen, near the ambulance that waited just outside Carrera Willis's suite.

She didn't see the person at first, since there were crowds surrounding the entire crime scene. But when Brian began pointing out the same gray figure in each video, she began to see the pattern.

"He's at every single crime scene." Brian said, flipping through a few more videos. "And that's not all. He's also been captured by every camera we've put in the Union's houses. He's literally everywhere."

"Who is he?" Raymond asked quickly.

Ryzea peered a little closer at one of the video recordings playing on the screen of the laptop. She watched herself go out onto the balcony of Phillip Weis's house, and only a moment later, joined by the same figure that Brian had pointed out in each significant video recording.

"The system hasn't found a match in the New Greenwich database yet." Brian looked a little disappointed.

She swallowed the shock that rose to her throat. "That's because you won't find him there. He's not from New Greenwich."

Raymond's gaze locked onto hers immediately. "What do you mean, Wash?"

"He's from Dayton." Ryzea felt like she could hardly breathe. "That's Will Salas."

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><p><strong>Oooh! How'd you like that? WABAM! And I also got a little review about more Raymond character development and I tried to do that. But I also didn't want to make him become all soft and stuff, so I'm going to do that gradually. I hope this was okay at least. I just want him and Zea to develop in their relationship a little bit more first before I get to his gooey, soft center. Lol.<strong>

**Please R&R! :)**


	15. Stand by

**I know it's been probably years since I've updated (not really, but it feels like it). This story just kind of flew from my head and I haven't thought about it since. Well, the busy crisis time in my life has passed and I'm left sitting on the sofa feeling like fat pile of sludge. And now I've picked up the story again. I felt that I owed you guys, since I promised I'd still keep trying.**

**This chapter, um. Doesn't really have any purpose, except to turn my plot just a bit more. The next chapter will be more meaningful, I promise. (Oh dear, I seem to be making a lot of those, don't I?)**

**I hope you guys are satisfied with this for a little. The next chapter's gonna be a super long one, so I'm going to get straight on that one. :)**

**Thank you so much for staying with me all the way here. Support means everything!**

**Please R&R! **

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><p><span>Chapter 14<span>

Ryzea bit her lip, tugging on it gently – almost, nervously – with pristine, white teeth. An advantage to having copious amounts of time: you could always spend a few minutes on a dental procedure. The room was dead silent. She had one of the nice dresses from that gigantic closet, a blue silk wrap settled over her shoulders. She kept her legs crossed and her back straight, uncomfortable in the otherwise luxurious plush armchair. Raymond sat in the other, dressed –as always – in an immaculate navy blue suit.

Without even meaning to, she glanced down to where his hand rested on the arm of the chair, where their "wedding ring" hugged his left ring finger. The pretty little thing seemed to soften the roughness of his long fingers, make him seem warm.

She thought it looked out of place.

"We weren't certain of his identity until now, but it makes sense." Raymond was saying.

Henry Hamilton sat behind the large oak desk, hand supporting chin, with a grave expression on his face. They were in his office – his own personal office – while the so-called blue blood party continued downstairs without a clue about their discussion. The other Timekeepers on their team were absent, milling about downstairs to blend in perfectly with the crowd. Each with their own mission phone on hand in case an emergency came to light. The atmosphere in the room made her acutely aware of her own mission phone, tucked safely away in the white clutch lying in her lap.

"His name is Will Salas, son to Rachel and John Salas, 28-years old. He's listed as one of Phillipe Weis's accountants. No criminal record. Not even a single traffic ticket. However, he isn't listed in the New Greenwich directory. He's listed in Dayton's." Raymond spoke in a clipped tone, his jaw locking every few seconds or so – an indication that he was tense. "He's appeared in almost every crime scene and every house in which we've established security measures. It seems he's everywhere from nowhere."

"And you have no idea, not even a shred of a paper trail, to how he got to New Greenwich?" Mr. Hamilton glanced down at the papers of Will Salas's file before him. "You do realize what this means, don't you? You've brought me a name, but no connection. What am I supposed to do with this?"

Zea decided to cut in. "We were told to bring any advancement in the case to you, sir. It can't be a coincidence that he keeps appearing throughout our investigation. And it's definitely strange that he wound up in New Greenwich – with a job, too. We've yet to establish any sort of concrete evidence linking him to the murder. But we came to you with his file, because we're wondering how to approach him."

"We're undercover, sir. We can't exactly just bring him in for questioning." Raymond pointed out. "What do you suggest we do?"

The prominent business man turned a page in the case file, looking thoughtful. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Ryzea repeated incredulously.

"Nothing."

"But, sir – "

"I understand that this is the first lead we've had in months on this case." Mr. Hamilton cut her off. "But you're right. You have no authority in the parameters of this investigation to bring him in for questioning and without concrete evidence, my employer can't do anything about it either. You'll just have to sit tight, watch him. Keep looking for more leads, connections, evidence."

And that was the end of that.

Raymond was seething as they were tersely dismissed and escorted back into the throngs of the social gathering. Ryzea shifted uncomfortably in her dress. Mr. Hamilton's private office had been cool and quiet – a peaceful environment. The entrance lobby however was full of chitter-chatter, something she'd grown to hate in her months here in New Greenwich. She never got a moment's peace anymore.

"So… what now?" She asked quietly as Raymond pulled her into his side.

They stood on the fridges of the room, looking for all the world like a couple exchanging a few private words. His arm was warm on her waist and without thinking, she rested her head on his shoulder – he was the perfect height for that. But from this position, she could feel the tension and rigidness of his shoulders – a telltale sign of his stress and frustration. She was just as frustrated as he was. They'd found a lead, but they couldn't do anything about it and Mr. Hamilton _wouldn't_ do anything about it. It sort of sucked working undercover.

"We do what Mr. Hamilton said." Raymond murmured, his eyes still trained on the crowd of social gatherers before them. "We watch and we wait."

"Wait for what?" She turned her cheek to look up at him, noticing once again how his jaw locked when he was angry.

"For a mistake."

His voice was chilly and distant, gaze cold and calculating.

"We wait for him to slip up. And then we'll get that son of a bitch."

Nodding in agreement, she turned to look back out on the floor. She studied their faces closely, watching how each of them were so unaware of the danger that lurked in the shadows of New Greenwich – the TimeKeepers by their side, staying with them, protecting them.

That's what they were.

They were protectors.

They were the Keepers of Time, the most precious thing in the world.

Raymond pressed a kiss to the top of her head, almost absentmindedly. It seemed he'd gotten use to the mechanisms of their covers. She, however, still had not. Every time something like that happened, she'd startle in surprise, earning a reprimanding look from her 'husband'. She really needed to get used to this fluffy, cuddly, marriage couple thing, otherwise she might blow their cover someday.

"Better get back to business." He squared his shoulders, his hand squeezing her shoulder lightly.

Ryzea wished he wouldn't do that. His touch was warm and made her confused. She didn't know which was which anymore. Was he pretending or was he not? She'd never, in her life, seen Raymond act so compassionate. Could someone like him even have a heart? Was it possible? She doubted it. So then he must be one hell of a good actor. She wondered idly why he didn't pursue the acting career industry. She thought he might do mighty fine in that one, instead of risking his life to save others.

Shaking away those abstract thoughts, she only just remembered to form her lips into a 'loving' smile (Constantine had made her practice that one. She still couldn't get it quite right) for her 'husband'.

"Yes, let's."

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><p><strong>I'm not very satisfied with this chapter. But next one's awesome. I promise! (There I go again!)<strong>

**Don't forget to R&R!**


	16. Dead End

**Oh my goodness, it's been such a long while since I updated this little shindig. (School + life = dead)**

**Originally, the plot was different from this, but since it's been such a long time, I couldn't really remember where I was going with this, so I just decided to go down a different avenue.**

**I sincerely apologize for the long wait, but I hope this was worth it.**

**Please R&R!**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 16<span>**

The sun was shining _very_ brightly.

It was a sweltering hot day in New Greenwich, and almost everyone had opted to venture outdoors – if anything, to catch the occasional breeze for just a bit of relief from the heat. As a result, the ladies were wearing even more scandalous than usual outfits consisting of the shortest of dresses and lowest of necklines.

Constantine had dolled herself up in a white high neck cocktail dress – very classy by New Greenwich standards. She held a dainty yellow parasol on her shoulder, protecting her pale skin from the atrocities of the sun.

Ryzea couldn't help but admire how well the older Time Keeper blended in with the crowd. She really did look like one of them. Her fellow agent had forced her into a skimpy red dress that hugged all the wrong places, in her opinion. It accentuated her breasts and hips too much. She thought she looked like one of those shallow rich wives that commonly frequented blue blood social parties. But she'd relented when even Gus and Alex said she looked gorgeous. She'd opted for the simple black-rimmed hat that sufficiently covered her face from the sun. This way she wouldn't look like a red tomato by the end of the day.

Her leather gloves were making her arms sweat, but she wouldn't take them off. They were a safety mechanism. Without them, she was vulnerable. She was reminded of her time.

They had been given a 'lazy day' by Mr. Hamilton, who apparently wanted to award them for all their 'concentrated efforts thus far'. She thought he was just trying to compensate for his lack of support on the Will Salas front. They could probably give _themselves_ 'lazy days' since they were technically undercover and supposed to be normal, everyday citizens. Raymond had accepted it, though, without comment and they all suddenly found themselves with spare time to just…explore. It was the first time since the commencement of the operation that Ryzea didn't have something specific to do. She'd already toured all the public gardens and a few of the art museums. They sort of bored her and she got the feeling that Raymond thought the same. But they both reluctantly allowed Constance to drag them around the city like some god damn tourists.

She was so bored, she almost preferred her daily routine of chasing down Fortis' Minutemen in Dayton to this sparkling, sweating city.

Raymond tugged on her arm gently, where it was hooked around his elbow, as the proper fashion for married couples. She turned to look at him, tilting her head back to see him from under the rim of her hat.

He was smiling at her again, that loving smile that looked so natural and yet unnatural on his face.

"Are you hungry yet, love? We could stop by that little café we saw back there."

She shook her head, trying to get that smile right again. "No thank you. Besides, I was thinking maybe we could try one of those new restaurants on the east side, the ones Mr. Shipley recommended the other night?"

He played along as they squeezed through the crowded line that extended out the door of a passing restaurant. "Mr. Shipley does have exquisite taste."

She clung to him a little tighter as they turned to stroll down another main street. From her peripheral vision, her eyes flickered to each of two streets signs. Ubinsidus Street and Green Street. She filed the pieces of information away in her memory, along with the names and signs of each store along the intersection. Even here, in the plush, comfort of wealth and luxury, her skills hadn't dulled a bit. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"I vote we go." Constantine chipped in, her shoulder brushing against Ryzea's. "I heard they're serving what's now considered the city's best sushi."

"Sushi?" Zea brightened at the idea of one of her favorite delicacies. "What do you think, Reid?"

Raymond's eyes were scanning the perimeters, taking note of everything and anything in their surroundings. She could tell by the faraway and calculating look in his eyes. He had that a lot. It made those blue irises sharp and cold – a signature of the famous detached persona. She nudged him a little to bring him back into the dialogue.

"Sweetheart?" She let the endearment roll off her tongue, licking her lips furtively.

She still hadn't gotten used to those either.

"Hmm? Yes, that sounds fine." He wasn't paying attention to her. His attention had been captured by something on the other side of the street ahead of them.

"What is it?" Constantine caught on quickly, lowering her voice.

"C'mon. He's getting away."

Raymond jerked her forward suddenly, walking at a brisk pace across the street and up onto the sidewalk. She hurried to keep up with his long strides, throwing a glance over her shoulder for cars. Constantine followed behind gracefully. He dropped his hand to take hers, tough and lean fingers interlacing with hers as he pulled her along faster.

Ryzea wondered what he could've possibly seen that had him this concentrated, this focused. It had to have something to do with the case. With this in mind, she half-trotted next to him as they continued down the street and made a sharp turn left, onto a quieter street. There were significantly less people on this street – _Elderly Anvidas – _and she was able to discern what had made Raymond changed direction so swiftly.

Constance called it in with her ear piece, pressing a carefully manicured finger to the piece of equipment in her ear. Each individual TimeKeeper heard the same thing, heart spiking in anticipation.

"We've spotted Will Salas. Elderly Anvidasand Ubinsidus Street." The blonde Timekeeper said clearly.

The other TimeKeepers, the ones currently out and about on their own responded with the acknowledgement code.

"Eyes and ears on the lookout. Stay sharp, people." Ryzea added, keying up her own communications piece.

She watched as the said man came out of a nearby bookstore, holding a leather briefcase loosely in his right hand. He was dressed in workplace clothes, luxurious as expected of Philippe Weis' accountant. She studied him closely, noticing the edge of a black phone protruding from his dress pants' pocket. She wondered what he was doing here.

"I think it's time we properly introduced ourselves, don't you?" Raymond straightened the color of his blazer, squaring his shoulders.

She knew that look. It was his interrogation look. The all-business look. She shared her own look with Constantine and knew the other TimeKeeper sensed that this was going to be a whole different kind of 'lazy day'.

Adjusting her hat to sit more snugly on her head, she followed Raymond as he made a beeline towards the handsome accountant. Constantine followed at a distance, melting into the contour of the sidewalk crowd, her yellow parasol the only thing indicating that she was still in the area.

She took the lead as they approached Will Salas from the other side, just as he was hailing a cab.

"Mr. Salas?"

He turned as she spoke his name. A look of surprise flickered across his face before his expression smoothed out.

"Oh, Mrs. Sterling, hello." He smiled genuinely, eyes flickering to her Timekeeper partner. "And you must be Mr. Sterling. Pleasure."

Raymond extended his hand to accept Will's handshake. Later on, she would remember this moment very clearly; so clearly as to have the vivid nightmares haunt her night after night. Raymond's fingers never came in contact with those of Will Salas.

The world went silent as Will Salas dropped to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Then the world came rushing back as bullets hit the glass windows behind them. Her first instinct was to draw her gun and look for the shooter, but Raymond was already yanking her down the sidewalk. Pedestrians screamed as glass shattered. The line of bullets followed them as they ran. Constantine was nowhere to be seen.

Voices were screaming in her ear through the earpiece, but she couldn't concentrate.

A stinging pain across her right cheek.

Her shoes were gone, having been flung to the side as she ran barefoot.

"Wash!" Raymond's voice was rough and loud as he dragged her into a nearby alley.

He pressed her into the wall, one hand on the wall next to her left ear, the other hand clutching his gun angled to the open sidewalk. When had he pulled his gun? Had he been shooting back? She couldn't remember. She concentrated on the smooth skin of his collarbone as she struggled to make sense of things.

Her hat was gone.

Ryzea fought for breath as the adrenaline pumped through her heart, pounding in her head. Raymond was breathing just as hard, gusts of warm air brushing strands of her hair across her forehead. The rain of bullets had stopped, but the gunshots still rang in her ears.

"Wash! Hey!" His hand gripped her left cheek, almost shaking her. "Ryzea!"

She bit her lip as pain seared through her right forearm.

"What?" She mumbled, blinking rapidly to clear her head. "What?!"

"Are you hurt?

His grip softened until he was cradling her cheek. He turned her head to the side and frowned. She could feel the open cut on her cheek as he scrutinized it.

"Just a graze. You're lucky."

"Is he dead?" She asked stupidly.

"Raymond?"

The sudden voice made them both stiffen. His lightning reflexes had his gun trained on the newcomer. Ryzea turned her head to look at who it was.

Constantine held her hands up, one of them holding her own gun loosely, staring down the barrel of his gun calmly.

"It's just me."

She could feel the muscles loosen in his frame as he lowered the gun. He stepped away from where he had her crushed against the wall.

_"Leon? Wash? Come in."_

She couldn't tell whether it was Gus or Alex over the coms. It actually could be Brian. Raymond pressed a finger lightly to his own earpiece.

"This is Leon with Wash and Willows. We're okay."

_"Location?"_

"Ubinsidus Street, 600 block."

_"What happened?"_

That was definitely Gus. Zea brushed her hair out of her face and smoothed down her dress, which had ridden up while they were running.

"Ray and Zea were shot at by an unsub, who initially gunned down Mr. Salas. I think it was a standard M4A1." Constantine cut in.

Raymond shook his head. "Sounded more like a standard FAL."

_"Do you think this is connected to our serial killer?"_

He pursed his lips. "We'll see. Everyone get back to the apartment ASAP. And stay alert."

_"Yes, sir."_

Ryzea looked at Constantine, who had a stricken look on her face as she gazed back at the younger TimeKeeper.

"What?" She thought perhaps Constantine had seen something relevant.

"You're shot."

Raymond's head jerked in their direction. "What?!"

She was afraid to look down as she became aware of the warm liquid that dripped down her right arm. Now that Constantine had pointed it out, she could feel the searing pain in her forearm.

"Shit." Zea felt weak as she pressed her other hand to where it hurt the most, keeping pressure on instinct.

"Damn it." Raymond dragged a hand through his hair. "Let me see."

He holstered his weapon and pried her fingers gently from the wound as Constantine turned on her flashlight so they could see better in dimness of the alley.

"It doesn't look like it hit any muscle." He turned her arm by the elbow, examining the wound closely.

The movement caused her to moan softly in pain. She'd never been shot before, not even working the streets of Dayton. This was a first. She didn't even want to look at it. She was never great with blood.

"Here, hold her arm."

Constantine's soft fingers replaced Raymond's. She heard the slick sound of a knife unsheathed. Fear materialized as a metallic taste in her mouth. They couldn't go to a hospital for fear of having their covers blown. But she wasn't really ready for an infield removal. Couldn't they do this back in the apartment? She heard the rustle of fabric and then ripping.

A moment later, she felt the fine texture of cloth against her arm. She almost sagged in relief – he was just wrapping it up. Zea chanced a peek as Raymond tied the strip of cloth around the wound tightly.

"Fuck." She hissed as he knotted it and double-knotted it.

"This'll do for now until we get back."

"You'll be okay." Constantine reassured her, an arm around her waist to support her.

"Thanks."

Zea hated the feeling of wet blood on all over her fingers and arm.

Suddenly Raymond was pulling his blazer around her shoulders. "We need to keep you warm. You've lost quite a lot of blood."

Maybe that's why her vision kept going blurry. Her thoughts were hazy and she kept hearing the ringing sound in her ears. Her arm throbbed with a fiery pain every time she drew a breath.

Constantine and Raymond were discussing something, but she couldn't hear over the ringing gunshots. Her breath sounded louder and more labored than usual. What were they saying?

"I don't do well around blood." She attempted to explain to herself why the world was blurring.

"Can you walk?" Raymond's voice was suddenly clear, his arm secured around her waist.

She nodded and he led her out of the alleyway. Constantine had disappeared again. She leaned heavily on him. The adrenaline had seeped away, leaving weak muscles in its wake.

"Where's Constantine?"

He hailed a cab quickly, half lifting her into the back of the cab.

"Someone's got to clean up the mess." Raymond wrapped an arm around her shoulder so she was almost cradled into his side. "_L'hotel de Déesse, _please."

"You're going to be alright."

Zea closed her eyes, trying to shut out the pain that invaded her mind – and the embarrassment that came with the wound.

"I'm sorry."

She was already half-asleep, but she could almost swear that he was stroking her hair as he said it. She wanted to ask why he was sorry, but she couldn't muster the energy to do so. Instead, she allowed sleep to be her escape from the pain.

* * *

><p><strong>So tell me what you guys think!<strong>

**[Did you know? Originally, I was going to have Will Salas be Mr. Hamilton's "employer" of sorts, like he was his business partner and together, the two of them were investigating the serial killings, which would explain Will's appearance at all the crime scenes and such. And then he wanted to keep his identity a secret because he wasn't supposed to be in New Greenwich, but Mr. Hamilton smuggled him in (the reason would have had something to do with Sylvia Weis) and supplied him with all the papers, which was why Mr. Hamilton stopped the TimeKeepers from further investigating Mr. Salas. But I kind of forgot what I was doing with that storyline, so I just had him die. It's weak, I know, but I didn't know what else to do.]**

**Please, please review and again, I'm so sorry for the long and impossibly hard wait!**

**Thanks for sticking with me, lovelies. :)**


	17. Aftermath

**Wow, it's been a real long while, hasn't it, lovelies?**

**I'm very sorry about the long wait, but it took a while to get this all together and then even longer still to type it up the right way.**

**I know how hard it is to keep up with a story that updates every once in a millennium, so I took the liberty of providing a summary.**

**Summary:**

Ryzea Washlington is a "rookie" (this is in a quotes because she's worked for a few years, but is still considered new) TimeKeeper working the streets of Dayton with her usual partner, Amanda Kettleburn (a social rebel). She fails an undercover op, prompting a face-off with Fortis and the Minutemen from which she earns a knife in the side. TimeKeeper Raymond Leon saves her from timing-out. The day after she's on shift with Raymond, she gets called in for another undercover op, this time in New Greenwhich. A serial killer is murdering the business figures of the Time-Loaning Company Union and stealing their time (about 10 victims in the last 6 months). A task force is put together, and they investigate the cases. Ryzea and Raymond are undercover as husband and wife, Constantine as Raymond's sister, Thomas as private "keeper" (basically meaning bodyguard/manservant), and the others as various employees under Raymond. The team starts off installing microcams and doing recon in the last ten members of the TLCU. Ryzea meets Will Salas at Philippe Weis' house but then has to rescue Constantine from blowing their cover when Philippe and Sylvia argue in the room. Later, she meets him again for lunch when she walks out on the team for a break. Ian drives her back on Raymond's orders and later Ian is found dead with the words "For you" carved into his arm. Ryzea and Raymond discover individual letters carved into each of the victim's bodies, except for Greta Reese. Then Brian discovers Will Salas in all of the surveillance videos and they classify him as primary suspect. Mr. Hamilton refuses to help them for lack of evidence and the team goes back to doing nothing. When Raymond, Ryzea, and Constantine meet Will Salas on the streets, he is shot and in their escape, Ryzea is also shot. Constantine cleans up traces of their presence from the scene and Raymond rushes Ryzea back to their hotel for treatment.

**I hope that helps some!**

**Please R&R, because I really need the reviews.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 17<p>

Ryzea grumbled, trying to still her movements as Constantine rewrapped her wound for the sixth morning. Her whole shoulder and upper arm were incredibly sore and it hurt like hell whenever she even twitched wrong. It was a frustrating handicap and she was angry that she had been unlucky enough to be the only one shot.

"You'll have to wear long sleeves for a while to cover up the bandages, but I think you'll be okay without the sling from now on." The blonde smiled gently, placing the rolls of white bandages back into her emergency first aid kit.

A cool summer breeze drifted in through the open door from the lounge, gracefully causing the white drapes of the glass walls to billow out. The breeze was a welcome relief on her sticky hot skin in the suffocating heat of the whole suite. Someone really needed to fix the air conditioning.

"Thanks." Zea tried to hide her irritation. _Long sleeves in this summer heat? Fuck my life._

She glanced down at the overlapping layers of white gauze wrap that constricted her upper arm muscles almost painfully. Already, her irritation was heightened by the constant throbbing of her wound and the uncomfortable heat latching onto her skin.

Thomas knocked on the open doorway. "Is she clear for duty, _Healer_ Willows?"

Constantine rolled her eyes. "Yes, but –" She cut off Zea when she stood up enthusiastically, ready to get out in the field again. "You're still healing. Watch duty for you. No ass-kickings for a while."

Zea grumbled again.

"Good. Now we can finally get on with things." Thomas nodded, earning a deepening scowl from her.

Gathering her medicinal things, Constantine stretched her legs as she slipped off the bed. "Why don't you go help out Brian with those security tapes? I'm sure he'd appreciate a break after working hard like a real TimeKeeper should. Wash needs her rest."

Thomas only glowered at her as she left the room. Zea did nothing to hide her own amusement when he shot her a separate, dark look, but he left anyway and the suite was quiet again.

Out of habit, she immediately slipped a pair of white satin gloves over her arms to keep the green numbers from distracting her peripheral vision. Her bare feet were welcomingly chilling against the floor of the bathroom as she forced herself to study her face in the mirror. God, she hated mirrors. It reminded her of her nightmares – the ones she had every night filled with drowning blood and haunting faces. She braced herself with both hands on each side of the sink basin, focusing on the small pink line that was the only blemish on the smooth skin of her right cheek. Four days of bed rest with Mr. Hamilton's best and most trusted doctor's working on her bullet wound had left her skin pale and her muscles weak from disuse. The fading scar on her cheek was barely noticeable where a bullet had strayed too close. She marveled a little at the technology and science New Greenwich's doctors possessed. _I guess wealth does go a long way…_ The few and far between doctors in Dayton couldn't even come close to this kind of miracle. It would've taken her months to recover from a hit like that in the ghetto. Her hand strayed to the raised, puckered scar of the knife wound she'd received almost 6 months ago. It was ugly – a result from the mediocre treatment – and yet a source of pride and strength.

She washed her face just to feel a little cleaner, breathing deeply into the luxuriously soft fabric of the washcloth. She wondered where the other Timekeepers were and what they were doing. She hoped they hadn't left her behind. She hadn't seen Raymond since he'd carried her to bed the night of the shooting. He was probably already digging deep into the investigation.

Making herself a cup of tea, she wandered over to the empty TAC stage that was ever present in the middle of their suite. She wasn't used to a mission dragging out for this long. But then again, it was their first serial killer in New Greenwich – ever. Touching a paper every once in a while, she let her eyes float over the white and black and red and blue lines, analyzing for any new piece of information. Her eyes fell on a piece of paper with familiar markings on them that brought back those gentle chills.

The post-mortem inscriptions.

Someone had written them on a piece of paper. From the many combinations, bunches, scrambles, and cross outs, she could tell they'd also tried to figure out what they meant.

Zea absent-mindedly traced her finger over the frighteningly graceful curves of the etchings. It brought back the unbidden memory of Ian's death and her throat felt swollen. She hated how they had been unable to have a proper burial or even ceremony for him, due to the clandestine nature of their operation. He was just an unknown victim to the wealthy citizens he had sworn to protect. Nobody important.

She sat down heavily in one of the chairs, resting her chin on her good arm. The grotesque pictures seemed to mar the simple grace of the table, next to the many hand written reports they had written as requested.

The door opened, startling her from her gloomy somber thoughts and causing her to spill the cup of tea on the edge of the table.

"Shit!"

On reflex, she swept her good arm across the table, shoving the documents and photographs away from the mess. She cursed again when the sudden movements tugged at her damaged arm. She knew it was Raymond when he appeared at her hip, paper towels already in his hand to wipe up most of the liquid.

"Sorry," She mumbled, as she began to salvage the scattered papers.

He just frowned. "No worries. It didn't get any of the files, right?"

She nodded. They quietly cleaned up the mess together and Zea left the empty cup in the sink, silently mourning the loss of her morning tea.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, reclining on the couch with a bunch more papers in his hands

She avoided looking at him, already embarrassed that he'd caught her by surprise and then cleaned up after her fumble.

"Fine. Connie cleared me for duty."

He seemed to hesitate and then said quietly, "That's good. Mr. Hamilton wants us to come in for debriefing."

She had already expected this. "When?"

"In about two hours."

Turning away from the sink, Zea leaned over the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. "Did…anything happen while I was…out?"

The corner of his eyes tightened just a little but he didn't look up from the files. "No."

The conversation seemed to end there, but she was unsatisfied with the info she'd received. Most of what she knew about the shooting was gleaned from the NG Media broadcast and she didn't' trust that. She was starting to think the others were keeping these details about the shooting from her specifically. Raymond didn't seem willing to talk – not that he ever did – so she took a moment of silence to study him.

He looked as he always did – cool, sleek composure. The sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and the usual black dress pants and expensive shoes. Perfect, like _always_. The sun filtered in through the shining glass, casting a pure glow around the room. The light slanted across his cheekbones, sharpening his profile and outlining his facial features. As he adjusted his seat on the couch, lean muscles flexed underneath his shirt and she could remember exactly how it felt to be carried in those arms.

In the temporary serenity of their beautiful suite, Ryzea could grudgingly acknowledge how handsome Raymond Leon really was (without that justified scowl on his face).

It made her wonder if people really believed they were a married couple deeply in love. She twisted the ring on her finger out of habit, watching the sunlight catch the facets of the diamonds. She thought of herself as average and tough, nowhere near as attractive or charismatic as her assigned partner. This led her to more doubts and uncertainties about the concreteness of her cover and she became disgruntled. Constantine would've been a much, much better substitute and probably didn't have a moral struggle every time a lie rolled off her pretty tongue.

Only then did she realize she had been starting at him for an inappropriate amount of time, but he was also watching her with a peculiar expression on his face.

"What?"

Was he looking at the scar on her cheek? She could feel his coldness of his eyes contrasting with the heat of the sun from outside. Constantine's words echoed in her head.

_Sexual tension_.

Raymond opened his mouth and then closed it as if he had thought better of it. She was aware that there were crucial words to be said on her tongue, nudging against her lips. But when she also opened her mouth, they died away, withering in on themselves. The air around them became weighty with unspoken works and her heart started to pound in her ears.

He managed to tear his gaze away first, clearing his throat and immersing himself back in those fascinating reports. She was left feeling like she'd missed out on her chance at something very imperative, not really understanding what had just happened.

The rational, clear-cut part of her brain didn't really want to.

* * *

><p>They left for Mr. Hamilton's estate around one in the afternoon, when the sun was baking the sky. The car ride was suffocating and she could swear Thomas was driving extra slow to torture her patience.<p>

When they arrived, a manservant took their coats and led them to Mr. Hamilton's office (though they had already been here before and knew the way). Thomas was left to wait outside the door, like a proper elite keeper should.

"Good afternoon to both of you." Mr. Hamilton inclined his head as they sat in their respective armchairs positioned in front of his exquisite wooden desk.

They were very familiar with the proceedings of a debriefing, as was their business client. They went through the regular motions of discussing each report, Zea and Raymond both answering the posed questions where they could. It was all very robotic and routine.

As one of the wealthiest entrepreneurs of their time, Mr. Hamilton had a wide variety of resources and connections that not even the Director of the FTA (Federal TimeKeeper Agency) could compare to. He was indispensable asset to their investigation, as well as their supervisor on the operation. She wondered, yet again, just how high up Mr. Hamilton's connections were to allow him to have oversight of such an exigent, covert mission.

Zea watched him sigh deeply as he browsed through the papers in the now somewhat thicker CLASSIFIED folder. Images of the shooting were placed in a specific pattern on his desk, arranged in chronological order and relativity.

"You didn't see anything? Not even a muzzle flash?"

"No, sir."

Reluctantly, Zea grumbled, "We weren't expecting the unsub to strike in broad daylight."

Raymond rescued her from adding a snide remark. "It was a professional job, execution style. We think he was silenced before we could talk to him. Someone didn't want us to meet."

"I thought Mr. Salas was your primary suspect?"

"We were wrong."

Even Ryzea internally winced as Raymond let the words drop like ice.

"Indeed." Mr. Hamilton said slowly, his eyes flickering over the images of the hit.

The silence itched at her ears and allowed Zea to sink into her own thoughts. Will's murder had completely thrown them off their current thesis and now they didn't know what to think. She was sure Will had recognized Raymond from Dayton, maybe even recognized her. She'd been much younger when she'd met him, and that had only been brief, inconsequential. If she didn't know any better, she might have speculated that Mr. Hamilton had ordered the hit, just to preserve their covers.

But his murder right in front of her eyes made one thing clear: someone had prevented Will from communicating anything he knew – if he had known anything – to their team of Timekeepers.

And this made her wonder if the killer was aware of the undercover agents in this massive, opulent city. Maybe Will had known too much about the darkness operating in the shadows of New Greenwich. But with his history from Dayton and sudden appearance in the city most opposite from the ghetto, it couldn't be a coincidence that he was everywhere in their investigation. Maybe he'd known the real killer's identity.

Her arm throbbed suddenly and she dug her fingernails into the arm of the cushy office chair. She crossed her legs to disguise the sudden bout of pain and smoothed the rose water Tadashi VG1207L metallic, lace sleeved gown that draped over her legs. The sleeves were nice for hiding the bandages, but out in the open sunlight they constricted her pores and left her sweating profusely.

"Any thoughts, Miss Washlington?"

Did he know what she was thinking? He had a peculiar look in his eyes that compelled her to voice her theories. She glanced at Raymond as she sat up straighter. The hard lines of his jaw were set tightly, indicating the effect the stress of the situation had on him. It seemed whenever he expressed emotion, the tell-tale signs came from that one muscle in his jaw. He eyed her contemplatively, straightening his own solid, navy blue tie.

"I think Will knew something." Zea licked her lips in preparation for the next words. "I think he knew something that would've been crucial to our investigation. And I think he meant to tell us." She rushed through the rest. "TimeKeeper Leon isn't exactly inconspicuous in Dayton. Our presence is very well known, considering the dangers of the streets. I think he recognized us – at least Leon, Langston, and me. I think he knew what we were here for and someone killed him before he could get to us. Someone being the real killer. Which means the killer knows who we really are and what we're doing here."

"You think our covers have been compromised?" Raymond's expression darkened at the thought.

"It's definitely possible." She didn't even want to think about the implications of that theory. "They were aiming for us too."

She didn't miss the way his eyes immediately landed on her arm, and she remembered how he'd carried her up all those flights of stairs to avoid passerbys in their hotel.

The office phone rang then, and Mr. Hamilton gave them apologetic look before picking it up.

"Mr. Hamilton speaking."

She watched his face grow troubled. She picked at a few loose strands of thread from the arm of her chair.

"I see. And?"

Quiet.

I see. Yes. Thank you. Keep me updated."

He hung up.

"What is it?" She couldn't keep her curious mouth shut.

"My sources have informed me that they have found evidence to suggest Will Salas was siphoning money from Weis' personal accounts into Dayton's system, presumably using his position as private accountant."

Zea sat back, stunned. She'd been desperately hoping that her theory would be debunked, that Will had no part in all this death and deception, but instead it seemed to solidify. She didn't want to think that Will, Rachel's most precious person, had been involved in these despicable deeds.

"Dayton's system has been irregularly inflating since Mr. Salas arrived." Mr. Hamilton frowned after a couple of clicks on his computer. "At first, we thought it was just the regular inflation, wealth trickling down to the poorest levels. But this is different."

"How?" Raymond leaned forward, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair.

"You must understand something about the Time system first." Henry Hamilton's features seemed to wilt in a matter of seconds. "The truth about our wealth. There's… there is enough time for everyone – and I mean every single person out there – to live a full but ending life. However, New Greenwich citizens take and store most of the Time for them to live _forever_. And to keep the status quo, our society raises the cost of living to get back Time."

Even when she was a child, Ryzea knew there was such evil in the world. Human nature, so corrupted and twisted, that it allowed for vice. Eventually, she learned through life experience that New Greenwich was kept prosperous at the expense of Dayton's penurious people. Fighting for daily survival had allowed for the dark side of human nature to be ever present. She worked with the vilest of society, had even lived among them. She knew their economy, their system, was completely unfair and very corrupt. There just wasn't a way to combat the greed and power of such people. The closest she got was executing her duties as a TimeKeeper. And even then, she was still working under the government – under extortion and malfeasance.

Raymond didn't say a word, but by the calm, detached look on his face, she knew this was old news. He'd seen and experienced many years before she'd ever been born.

"We understand these things as part of everyday life, Mr. Hamilton." She replied very quietly.

"What are you getting at?" Raymond tilted his head.

Henry leaned forward. "I mean no disrespect when I say this, but I'm guessing you can understand what lengths someone from Dayton would go to secure more Time. You can also guess how this situation presents itself. If Will Salas was hacking into the system and pouring Time into Dayton's zone, then it's enough motive to kill the very people that are responsible for his people's suffering."

Zea was thinking about the day Ian had picked her up from lunch. Had Will followed them and killed her partner after she had left? Pressing her knuckles to her lips, she had difficulty swallowing. _No, Will wouldn't do this. It's not him._

"You're wrong about him." Her voice trembled like her hands. "He doesn't fit our profile."

Raymond cut in, suddenly interested. "He's from Dayton, he's got too much time, and no one knows how he got here. That's exactly our profile. Mr. Hamilton's theory seems very accurate."

"But he was killed, shot right in front of us." She argued. "He was trying to help us!"

"How do you know that?" Raymond pressed. "He was shot in public, an execution. Most likely a vigilante who figured out his identity."

"It's not like him." She shook her head angrily. "Our killer is still out there. He's the one who killed Will."

"How can you be so sure?" Henry gave her a dubious look.

She pulled sentences from nowhere, her anger rising. "Mr. Salas didn't have the level of access to get to most of our victims. Maybe it is just coincidence that he's in every one of our crime scenes. Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He's not a cold-blooded psychopath. Did you search his apartment?

Henry nodded slowly. "Nothing was found that could definitely tie him to the murders, except for document revealing his hack transfers from Zone 1 to 12."

"That's it then. We only have proof that he's been stealing time through corporate means. It could be completely unrelated to our case."

"Except that he was murdered before we could get to him. He's involved, that I'm sure of." Raymond rubbed his clean-shaven chin. "As for the killings, our evidence is shaky at best."

"There's no real proof." She said stubbornly.

She knew he'd only agreed somewhat because of the lack of evidence. The world of Raymond Leon was very black and white; innocent or guilty. He didn't think Will was innocent.

"I'm just thinking objectively." He gave her a pointed look that only served to fuel her anger.

"I suggest you look further into the Salas thread. There may be more to him than meets the eye." Henry sat back in his chair, tapping his fingers on his chin. "You should probably start with Philippe Weis' daughter, Sylvia."

She forgot her anger in a moment. Mr. Hamilton was giving her the chance to prove Will's innocence. She wasn't sure why, but she jumped on the chance.

"What for?"

"Rumor has it, they were involved." He shrugged and smiled politely.

"Your sources, you mean?" She couldn't help the snide remark.

_Damn, there goes my mouth again._

Henry just shrugged and smiled politely. "If anyone knew his secrets, it would be his lover."

Pieces began to fall into place in her mind and she flashed back to the night she'd walked in on Mr. Weis scolding his daughter. Could they have been talking about Will?

"Alright, I'll check it out."

She made to leave, waiting for Raymond to stand as well. When it was clear he wasn't going go, Mr. Hamilton coughed politely.

"Mr. Leon and I have some private things to discuss, if you don't mind."

"Oh." Her cheeks warmed and she opened the door.

Raymond turned then, catching her eyes with his own. "Take Langston with you. I can arrange for alternative transportation. Don't wait for me. I'll be back for dinner."

She nodded and closed the door behind her. Suspicion crowded her thoughts and she had half a mind to stay and eavesdrop through the door. But Thomas was staring at her and knowing her damned "husband", she didn't doubt that he would wait until her tracker showed her to be leaving before starting any conversation.

Wondering what the hell they could be talking about that they didn't want her to know, she accepted her coat from the manservant and pointedly ignored Thomas' inquiries about how the debriefing went.

"Aren't we waiting for Leon?" Thomas stopped her.

"No. Let's go."

The sun seemed to coast hotter still across the horizon as she proceeded down the front steps of the sprawling manor. She was disgusted by her own admiration of the gilded exterior of Mr. Hamilton's estate.

Thomas seemed to realize she wanted her space and opened the door for her silently before he got in the driver's seat.

Did they not trust her because of her rash defense of Will?

Her stomach churned at the thought.

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><p><strong>Let me explain some inconsistencies here.<strong>

**It seems like in the beginning of the chapter, Raymond also thinks that Will is innocent and was killed because he was trying to help. And then later, he challenges Ryzea when she says so. I know that sounds a bit confusing, but what I was trying to express was that Raymond thinks Will is a "secondary suspect", an accomplice if you will. He doesn't believe Will is responsible for the murderers, but he doesn't think he's innocent either. He's just getting under Ryzea's skin and trying to get her to realize that she doesn't have any proof to clear Will's name. He's "being objective" lol.**

**I noticed that in "One of Ours: Part I", Raymond says their cover story is that they're just passerbys, but then the city guard implies they've been called there. That was my mistake. I changed the plot some, so the correct one was that they were called there by city officials because Ian was identified as one of the Sterling's employees.**

**I can't remember if I've ever written it directly in the story, but the team has officially been undercover for about six months now. It's a big jump in the timeline, I know, but I need it to mold my plot.**

**That's all I remember for now.**

**Please, please, please review!~**


	18. A Break and a Surprise

**Hello everyone! It's summer! Guess what that means? Yeah, you got it. More chapters faster...hopefully. I've been obsessed with charging through Supernatural lately so I've ignored life. **

**But I'm trying really hard to get writing again so you can definitely count on a few more chapters to be out in the next few months.**

**Have fun and R&R, sweethearts!**

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><p>Chapter 18<p>

It was a miracle the way it happened – a stroke of luck, definitely. She doubted that if it hadn't happened the way it did, she never would've gotten the chance to even see Sylvia Weis. As it so happened, she'd been tailing the petite beauty throughout the week, familiarizing herself with the girl's routine so as to form a plan to intercept her for information.

But Zea was having no such luck. Everywhere the girl went, her father's bodyguards trailed just milliseconds behind. She was always surrounded by watchful eyes when she out of the Weis mansion, and then by cameras when she was within. Ryzea had yet to find her window of opportunity and like always when she hit an obstacle, she grew frustrated and moody. Nobody else on their team had had much progress either. Constantine and Gus spent hours into the night trying to decipher the postmortem inscriptions; Brian was still going through hundreds of hours' worth of security tapes and when he wasn't doing that, he was spending hours getting around in the cyberworld for information; Thomas and Raymond were rarely around the apartment as they were always away on business that – to quote Raymond - "didn't concern her"; And since Zea was busy staking out Sylvia Weis, this left Alex to take every night watch and sleep throughout the day.

It wasn't the best schedule for all of them, but it was the pattern they'd fallen into.

Several times, she'd tried to catch Sylvia in moments when she was alone without any prying eyes, but everytime Zea got close, the window closed and bodyguards or cameras got in the way. It was beyond frustrating. She even got so paranoid as to think that maybe the Weis' knew she was onto them.

So she was pleasantly surprised when she got a phone call from Sylvia Weis herself, asking Zea to meet her for lunch at the exact place she'd had lunch with Will just a few weeks before. She jumped at the chance.

She really had caught quite the break.

Dressed in horrible creme, patra-cap sleeve lace shift dress, Zea braved the angry sun to drive herself to the designated meeting place. Wondering why Sylvia would even want to talk to her, she was a little apprehensive as she handed the keys to the valet and stepped through the glass doors into air-conditioned heaven.

"Mrs. Sterling?" A slender waitress caught her attention. "Your table is right this way."

Smoothing down her hair, Ryzea followed the young woman to a table near the back, away from the glass windows and shrouded in privacy. Sylvia Weis sat waiting for her in one of the cushioned chairs, back straight, hands folded daintily across her lap. _Where are her puppy dog guards? _She stood politely when the waitress approached with Zea in tow.

"Good afternoon." She greeted them with a practiced smile, nodding to the waitress. "Thank you. Could you bring a bottle of champagne, please?"

Zea sat down along with Sylvia as she dismissed the other woman. Now that she wasn't in the middle of a cover crisis, she had ample time to study the wealthy, young woman in front of her.

Ryzea had heard the term "Doe-eyes" before, but she'd never actually had any idea of its appearance – until she characterized Sylvia Weis's eyes. They were large and round, innocent in a childlike way, and yet gleamed with the maturity that her age suggested. It was a little unnerving, especially when Sylvia cast her gaze searchingly on her lunch partner.

"I'm glad you could make it, Mrs. Sterling." She spoke with a soft melody.

"Thank you for the invitation. Please, call me Leah. "

"Then call me Sylvia. I figured it would be better than eating alone."

Zea suddenly wanted to skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point. But she refrained herself and averted eye contact by perusing the elegant menu in front of her. They both ordered when the waitress came back with the champagne. She hoped Sylvia wouldn't try to pay for her meal, since she wanted to avoid the bill fight that would normally ensue. It was quiet for a moment. Zea tried to come up with a subtle way to broach the subject. Again, it was Sylvia who ended up opening the proverbial door.

"You must be wondering why I invited you here on such short notice."

Zea nodded admittedly. "I was surprised when I got your call."

Sylvia smiled thinly, but this time it didn't reach her eyes. "I've been meaning to speak with you for days now. I've just been so preoccupied what with…"

Will's death hung like a damper cloud over their conversation, the elephant in the room.

"I'd heard you and your husband were at the scene where my father's accountant was shot." The Weis's younger daughter seemed to wilt a little in her seat.

Did a lot of people notice that the Sterlings had been involved? She took a routine glance around the restaurant, wondering again where the Weis's bodyguards could be. She'd never seen Sylvia without them. Sylvia caught her looking around and waved a hand.

"You don't have to worry about anyone overhearing. I made sure this was a private meeting."

"Yes… it was quite the scare." She noticed the way that Sylvia avoided saying Will's name. "Fortunately, the authorities came before anyone else was hurt."

Their food remained untouched.

"We were going to run away together."

The words fell onto the table abruptly.

Sucking in a trembling breath, Sylvia continued. "Not forever of course, just a few days to ourselves. Already, too many people had heard we were together and my father was getting angry. I was afraid that if he found out, he'd remove Will from the office and separate us entirely."

She was sure now that Philippe had been scolding Sylvia about her time with Will. Not knowing what else to do, Zea reached across the table and squeezed her hand sympathetically.

"I'm so sorry, Sylvia." She knew with a fierce ache how it felt to lose someone you loved. "Will didn't deserve what happened to him."

Sylvia squeezed her hand back and tried to smile. She hadn't seemed surprised when Zea didn't react to her confession.

"It's not every day you find love like yours, you know." Sylvia touched the wedding ring with her thumb mournfully. "Every couple in this city is together for wealth or for stature. But you and your husband are different, I can see it - the way you look at each other and...w-well, I didn't know who to speak to, but I was hoping you would understand. You know what kind of love I'm talking about."

Blushing, Ryzea felt uncomfortable as the attention was brought on the fake ring hugging her right ring finger. She was stunned at how Sylvia had described her relationship with Raymond. It couldn't possibly be farther from the truth. There was no love in their "marriage" – just a relationship of convenience fueled by a common desire to deliver justice. She allowed herself to feel a little guilty at the sense of satisfaction that came with knowing that someone was buying their cover so thoroughly.

"I…I'm touched that you confided in me." Zea said truthfully.

At first, she'd just been glad that she'd finally gotten the chance to extract some information for the case. But now, talking to a someone who'd just lost the love of her life, Ryzea felt the need to comfort the girl – as she'd wished someone had done so for her all those years ago. The pain of a loved one's death was no stranger to a child of Dayton.

Tears threatened to spill over her delicate cheeks, but Sylvia dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a napkin and took some deep, shuddering breaths. She withdrew her hands slowly and Zea dropped her hands back into her lap.

Taking a sip of champagne, Sylvia took a pregnant moment before she spoke again.

"Today I discovered that during the investigation, the TimeKeepers had found evidence of Will's involvement in those serial suicides." She shuddered. "They're painting him into a suspect and considering serial killings. But I know he's not a killer, he couldn't be! He was with me on the nights a few of the suicides occurred."

She bit her lip in a grimace. "But I couldn't very well say that, or my father would've had my head."

Ryzea took a risk as Sylvia unloaded passionately. "Did you know that Will was stealing Time from your father ?"

"How did you know about that?

When the TimeKeeper didn't respond, Sylvia nodded. "I helped him sometimes. I don't believe in my father's monopoly. What Will was doing was for a greater cause.

"Why are you telling me all this?" Ryzea could see how Sylvia would be giving all this information if she knew she was a TimeKeeper, but for now she was just another opulent citizen.

"Your husband." Sylvia admitted sheepishly. "His work entitles him connections in the TimeKeeper agencies, right? With Mr. Hamilton?"

Oh, yeah. Reid's cover had recently come to involve working under Mr. Hamilton as a prosecutor. And she was starting to get the feeling that Mr. Hamilton had more than just a large influence on the TimeKeeper agency in New Greenwich.

"Please, you have to believe me. W-Will would never kill anyone so heartlessly." Sylvia seemed on the edge of crying again.

"I do. I do believe you." Ryzea said gently. "I've met Will several times, and I know he has a gentle heart."

She couldn't say anymore without risking her cover.

"I think whoever the killer is was blackmailing him." Sylvia sniffed. "Lately, he was getting paranoid about everything. And I had suspected that the Time was coming from those victims on TV. But I didn't push him. He always got angry and worried about my safety."

"What makes you think it was blackmail?"

"He slipped up once and mentioned that he was working with someone else. And he took calls from an unknown number and emails from an untraceable IP address. I tried to investigate a little, but I couldn't do much without Will or anyone else finding out. And the day that he was killed, h-he said he was going to meet someone to 'end it'."

"Have you told anyone else this?"

Sylvia shook her head. "I didn't trust anyone else. The TimeKeepers I tried talking to all thought I would say anything because I loved him and my father's never considered my opinion. Please, you're my only hope now. Will may have done some bad things, but he isn't a murderer."

"I understand." Ryzea's mind was already racing with new possibilities that this information produced. "But my husband doesn't choose his cases. The TimeKeepers do. I can't guarantee that he'll have any sort of influence in Will's case."

Her clutch vibrated and she cursed whoever it was that would interrupt at the most inopportune moment.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Sylvia said helplessly.

Ryzea bit her lip. "Could you get me access to Will's apartment? And his computer?"

The girl nodded immediately. "Today, if you'd like."

Her mission phone buzzed again, insistently.

She shook her head. "Not today. I-I still have to talk to my husband. I'll contact you."

Opening her clutch that once again buzzed with the insistence of someone tryinig to get ahold of her, Ryzea chanced a glance. Raymond's cover name flashed across the screen and she hurriedly snapped the purse shut.

"I'm sorry, I have some other business to take care of. I'm apologize for rushing out on you, like this." She stood hurriedly, feeling guilty at the sight of her untouched plate.

"Don't worry about the bill." Sylvia waved a hand. "Thank you, so much for agreeing to help. I just didn't know what else to do."

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't guarantee anything."

Ryzea wished she could be more direct and tell the suffering woman that she'd do anything to clear her lover's name. If not for her, then for Rachel. She wasn't going to argue the bill since her phone was vibrating _again_.

When she got back into her car and her stomach growled, she regretted the decision not to take her food home. She still hadn't had lunch, but it was a small price to pay for the information she'd just gotten. Mr. Hamilton had really pointed her in the right direction and maybe he knew more than he let on.

Either way, she was even surer now that Will Salas was innocent.

She picked up when he rang for the fourth time.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

"I was having lunch with Sylvia Weis downtown." She irritably executed an illegal U-turn out of the parking lot.

"Philippe's daughter?"

"Hamilton was right. Her and Will were in love and her father didn't approve of it. She wants _our_ help. Well, not _our_ help, but your help as a paralegal. She was helping Will in the Time scandal and she thinks someone was blackmailing him."

"How so?"

"She said he was being secretive and maintaining unknown communication with another partner. She also said that on the day he died, he was going to meet someone to 'end it'."

"He could've been lying to her to keep her from getting involved."

Zea rolled her eyes. "She was telling the truth. I know it. She loved him, Raymond."

There was a pregnant silence.

"It's our anniversary today."

"What?" She was confused at the random turn in conversation.

"It's our wedding anniversary today."

Her mouth hung open as she mentally shuffled through the papers of her cover file. She sort of remembered that they were supposed to have been married in the summer, but she hadn't really processed the fact that it was to be celebrated.

"I thought it was July."

She could of sworn the paper had said July.

"It's today, June 7th." His voice was unfathomable.

She muttered a curse under her breath. She really thought July was more correct. "So… what?"

"I have a...surprise for you."

"Excuse me?" She held the phone away from her ear, wondering if she'd had a sudden lapse in reality. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Connie's waiting for you back at our hotel room. She'll tell you what you need to know." He sounded a little uncertain and Zea grew very suspicious.

"Wait, what?!" She eased up a little on the gas when she realized she'd gotten tense. "I don't want a surprise. Tell me now!"

"Can't. Just, trust me." He hung up.

Ryzea tossed her phone onto the passenger seat and hit the steering wheel. "Son of a bitch!"

Trust _him_? Right. Because he made that so easy. She didn't' like surprises or secrets at all. And she certainly didn't want to pay any significant attention to the fact that it was their "wedding anniversary". She hadn't really thought about what exactly her cover might entail, but _this –_this was a whole new level of freaky. In fact, she was thinking that this anniversary business didn't matter at all compared to the steaming pile of case _nothing_ that they had stewing in their laps. They should be focusing all their resources on Sylvia Weis, their only real break in months! Not celebrating some fake romance!

What was Raymond thinking?

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><p>"It's a surprise!" Constantine said brightly, careful to hold the curling iron a safe distance away from Zea's neck.<p>

"Just tell me!" Zea grumbled, looking idly at her new manicure that Constantine had forced her to get as a 'bonding exercise'. "C'mon Connie, I don't like going into something without at least _some _details."

They'd spent the last hour or so dolling her up for some sort of event, but for the life of her, Ryzea couldn't get it out of the bubbly TimeKeeper. The moment she'd walked in that door, ready to interrogate the wily blonde, Ryzea had been whisked into the bathroom and forced to try on various dresses to Constantine's liking. She caught the comment about how her dress had to match, but when she asked to what, Constantine just pressed her lips together and shook her head. Ryzea thought all the dresses were ridiculous and couldn't see how the dress she had been wearing that morning wouldn't suffice. She obliged anyway when the blonde threatened to take her off all active missions (she knew it was a bluff but protocol stated that her attending physician _could_ actually do that). Finally, _finally, _after the closet floor was littered in Constantine's rejects, her self-appointed fashionista settled for a pretty pastel green dress* with sequins, sleeves, a low back, and thigh-high slit on her left side which made her feel very uncomfortable but allowed for more leg movement.

"I know, I know, but I _can't_ tell you." Constantine allowed a fresh curl to gently drop from the curling iron. "I'm just so excited. I've always wanted to something wedding-related. Weddings sound like so much fun!"

This sent Ryzea on a whole other tangent of ideas. What if he was planning on re-enacting their wedding or something? Oh, god. What if it was another honeymoon? She'd heard the rich ones usually did that all the time. She was certainly dressed up enough for a damn wedding.

"I hate surprises." She attempted to turn her head to glare at Constantine, but she risked getting burned by the curling iron. "Don't curl it too much. I look ridiculous with tight curls."

"I know how to make it look natural." Constantine quipped.

Ryzea stared down at the white marble counter, not once letting her eyes stray to their image in the mirror. _Fucking mirrors_, she thought. Just sitting in front of one for this long made her tense as snippets of her nightmares flitted on the fringes of her consciousness. She came back to herself when she felt tugs on her iron-mangled hair.

"What are you doing?" Zea raised her hands in an attempt to stop the other woman from pulling her hair up but Constantine just tugged harder, twisting jeweled elastics into her curls.

"It looks more elegant this way."

She complained, "I like my hair down."

"Too bad," was the snarky reply.

With most of her curls tightly wounded on the top of her head and the ends spiraling out from the intricate bun, her head felt burdened with too much weight concentrated on the tippy-top. _Stupid goddamn hair_, Ryzea cursed the situation.

Constantine seemed pleased with her work. "Go put on your dress and then we'll leave."

She massaged the crown of her head to relieve some of the tension. "Why can't you go in my place? You obviously _want _to go."

"Don't be like that." The blonde patted her shoulder, then pinched her lightly. "Don't rub your eyes, you'll mess up your makeup."

Ryzea muttered a few choice words under her breath as she shuffled into the closet. The heavy eyeliner was making her eyelids itch. She was dreading whatever it is that they had planned for her. It was stupid to celebrate something that wasn't even real. The case was more important; didn't they realize that? She kept thinking about the conversation she'd had with Sylvia Weis, which lead her to think about Will's death, which in turn brought on depressing thoughts about the case. It seemed even in the glamour of New Greenwich, death still existed.

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><p><strong>*[Taken from Crystal Reed's dress at the 4th Annual Thirst Gala]<strong>

**Thanks for reading + please review!**


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